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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372217">Nott to Worry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenpitchpipe/pseuds/Brokenpitchpipe'>Brokenpitchpipe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Courtroom Drama, EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Invisibility Cloak Shenanigans, It's Trope City Baby, M/M, POV Outsider, Polyjuice Potion Shenanigans, Post-Canon, Quite a Bit of Third Wheeling, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship, Tie Swapping, Underground Betting Rings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:27:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenpitchpipe/pseuds/Brokenpitchpipe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Theodore Nott planned to spend his eighth and final year at school studying for his N.E.W.T.s, avoiding his classmates, and dodging their theatrics long enough to graduate.</p><p>Instead, he found himself ensnared between the entirety of the eighth-year class (who'd convinced themselves that Draco and Potter were secretly shagging) and Draco and Potter themselves (who actually were, and were frankly <em>awful</em> at hiding it.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harry Potter</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In Which Many Things are Discussed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>While I tried to make this as canon-compliant as possible, this fic does take place in a universe where Harry and Ginny have never dated.<br/>Endless thanks to my beta reader, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duinemerwen">Duinermerwen,</a> and their eternal patience with my fondness for semicolons and interrupted dialogue.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Theo.”</p><p>Theodore Nott ignored this. The Great Hall wasn’t exactly the best place to write an essay, but the damn thing was due next class and Theo refused to choose between tardy schoolwork and a skipped meal.</p><p>“Theo.”</p><p>Blaise was tapping the table urgently, his fingers dangerously close to Theo’s coffee. Taking care not to spill on his parchment, Theo prodded the goblet a few inches to the left.</p><p><em> “Theo,” </em> Blaise repeated, this time bypassing the table in favor of smacking Theo’s shoulder. The neat line of ink that had just finished spelling out <em> ‘mathematical’ </em>smeared up the right margin, and Theo’s fingers tensed around his quill.</p><p>“Blaise,” he said through gritted teeth, “if you don’t—”</p><p>“Theo, it’s <em> happening.” </em></p><p>Theo dropped his quill.</p><p>“What? Now?” For the first time since coming down for breakfast, Theo looked up at the mass of people swarmed around the Great Hall tables. “They can’t be,” he said, squinting through the ocean of students to better see the Gryffindor table. “It’s only been a month.”</p><p>“There,” Blaise said, pointing to the mouth of the hall.</p><p>And sure enough, there was Potter, wandering in to breakfast fashionably late as always. Except— </p><p>“Merlin’s ballsack,” Theo breathed.</p><p>No one else appeared to have noticed. The reverent hush-and-then-babble that once followed Potter everywhere he stepped had faded out a few weeks ago. It was November, and two months had evidently been the limit to people’s deification of Potter’s every move. Merely walking into the Great Hall for breakfast no longer earned him applause, and from what Theo could tell, he was grateful.</p><p>Potter didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. He ambled to the Gryffindor table with one hand tucked in his robe pocket, and plopped down in an empty spot between Granger and Weasley about halfway down the hall. </p><p>None of this was out of the ordinary. Potter rarely showed his face before the last ten minutes of breakfast, and always lagged behind after the rest of the school had finished. In fact, since the start of term, Theo didn’t think he’d seen Potter once leave a meal before anyone else. He’d heard rumors that Potter arrived and stayed late to avoid extra attention, but Theo personally reckoned that he just wasn’t a morning person. The only evidence against this theory was the occasional morning when Potter could be spotted soaring above the empty Quidditch pitch before dawn on the weekends before any of the house teams had booked it.</p><p>So the fact that Potter was late held absolutely no interest to either Theo or Blaise.</p><p>The fact that Potter was wearing a Slytherin tie <em>did. </em></p><p>“They really did it,” Theo said weakly, watching how the Hall’s faux-sunlight reflected in the silver threads.</p><p>“Unbelievable.” Blaise shook his head. “A <em> month. </em>I thought it’d take at least two.”</p><p>“Three, I thought,” Pansy piped in, from Blaise’s right. She snatched Theo’s goblet, and Theo weighed his options. After a moment, he decided that letting her take it without a fight would give his essay the best chance of survival, so he folded his arms instead of trying to take it back. Besides, he liked his coffee with an overdose of cream and sugar, and she liked hers with neither. It would be punishment enough. Pansy took a sip and grimaced. “No one had today, did they?”</p><p>“No one even had this week,” Blaise said, disappointment ebbing off him in thick, depressing waves.</p><p>“Damn,” Theo said, “and we haven’t had an interesting bet in ages.”</p><p>“What are we betting on?”</p><p>Their view of the Gryffindor table was blocked quite suddenly as Draco sat down opposite them, his back to the rest of the hall. He looked extremely disheveled. His hair was sticking up in the back, his shirt was a wrinkled mess, and—</p><p>They all looked at his neck, around which was tied a battered-looking scarlet and gold tie.</p><p>“Is that coffee?” Draco reached over the stack of thin, perfectly-cooked pancakes that had appeared between them, his sleeve smearing the butter. Within seconds he was draining Theo’s goblet, grunting faintly in pleasure.</p><p>“Merlin help us if Hogwarts ever has a dragonpox outbreak,” Theo muttered, “we’ll all be infected in minutes.” He took the opportunity to look over Draco’s shoulder at the Gryffindors.</p><p>Granger and Weasley were staring straight at them, their faces identically slack with disbelief. Weasley’s eyes met Theo’s, and he mouthed something Theo couldn’t quite make out.</p><p>“That’s better,” Draco sighed, slamming the now-empty goblet back down beside Theo’s half-written essay, and Theo tore his eyes away from Weasley. “Nothing like a good <em> cup o’ John.” </em></p><p>Pansy rolled her eyes. “Muggle studies is going well, I take it?”</p><p>“Marvelously.” Draco didn’t bat an eye. It took more than a single jibe at his choice of curriculum to shake him these days. “So,” he said, “what are we betting on?”</p><p>“Nothing, anymore,” Blaise said truthfully. “I was about to lament how it was rather pointless to guess the <em> place</em>. Literally none of us are surprised.”</p><p>“Or impressed,” Pansy added.</p><p>Draco blinked.</p><p>“Congratulations, though,” Theo said.</p><p>Draco blinked again, slowly. He looked down at the empty goblet, frowned, and then began to search for more sources of caffeine. As eighth-years, they were technically allowed the use of Pepper-up Potions and the like because they were of age, but those were a pain to brew and a bigger pain to drink without attracting a crowd of desperate O.W.L. driven fifth-years. Coffee was a much more practical option.</p><p>Theo, Blaise, and Pansy watched in wordless amazement as Draco found the coffee pitcher and poured himself another goblet, completely nonplussed. On the other side of the room, Potter barked out a laugh. Theo stole another glance. Granger looked concerned, and Weasley looked straight at Theo, raising his eyebrows in a silent yet instantly understood question: <em> What the fuck. </em>Theo had time for a shrug before Draco blocked his view of the Gryffindor table again, now grabbing four pancakes for his plate and slathering them with lemon juice. </p><p>“Where’s the sugar,” Draco muttered. “Ah, there.”</p><p>“So,” Blaise said, voice deliberately calm, “you look… tired.”</p><p>“Mm.” Draco nodded. After dumping a veritable mountain of sugar on his plate, he grabbed a few sausages and a piece of toast. He carefully wedged the bread between the pancakes and sausages, keeping them safely separated. Theo didn’t imagine German <em> wurst </em> would go well with delicate French <em> crêpes, </em>but it still seemed a bit too meticulous for breakfast. </p><p>“Granger’s been hounding me about our Arithmancy project.” Draco groaned. “I did my entire half using the Chaldean method.” When this received no response, he stabbed his knife down, cutting the stack of pancakes into neat quarters. “We were supposed to use the Agrippan,” he said, scowling down at the swirl of lemon and sugar beneath him. “And <em> I’m </em> the idiot for not cross-checking her footnotes, of course. Shag <em> me.”  </em></p><p>“Just your project, then?” Pansy pressed.</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” He stuffed a forkful of pancake quarters into his mouth and chewed slowly, looking between the three of them. After a long moment, he swallowed. “Mother sent me another letter last night,” he said, focusing his attention on the butter tray instead of their expectant faces. He swiped a dollop from the end and smeared it over what was left of his pancakes. “Father’s not doing well in Azkaban.” </p><p>A long silence followed this, in which Draco began cutting his sausages. The end of one fell onto the table. He scowled at it, as if it had done him a personal disservice, then began to eat the untainted slices still on his plate. After a moment he looked back up at Blaise, Pansy, and Theo. “What were you three talking about, anyway?”</p><p>Theo wasn’t fooled. Draco had spent the entire summer coming to grips with his familial situation, and he hadn’t shown the slightest trace of sympathy for his father’s sentence since they’d started the new year. In any other situation, it might have been a perfectly serviceable lie— if he and Potter weren’t wearing matching <em> I’ve-just-been-shagged </em>badges around their necks. </p><p>The scarlet-and-gold tie caught a ray of light.</p><p>Blaise opened his mouth, but Theo was faster.</p><p>“We were betting on where McGonagall would dump us this year,” he said quickly. “And, to no one’s surprise, we ended up in the South Tower.”</p><p>“Y…es,” Draco said slowly. “I was aware of that when we moved our things in two months ago.” He paused. “In September.”</p><p>“Well,” Theo said, ignoring the way Blaise’s foot pressed over his, “it was rather a stupid bet.”</p><p>“Yes, it was.” Draco raised an eyebrow. If he noticed the palpable tension that had wound itself between Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, he didn’t mention it. “I’m going to the library,” he said abruptly, standing.</p><p>“Don’t let Pince see you with that,” Theo said, nodding to Draco’s stack of breakfast food. “You’ll be flayed alive.” </p><p>Draco tutted. “Please. I’ve been taking food into the library since I was twelve, I think I can manage it without getting caught by now.” And with that finishing blow, he swept down the hall with his breakfast in hand, not even bothering to glance at the Gryffindor table as he left.</p><p>Theo let out his breath the moment Draco was out of sight. He reached for the coffee pitcher.</p><p>“What in Merlin’s name was that?” Blaise demanded. “Theo—”</p><p>“It didn’t count,” Theo said firmly, grabbing a fresh goblet that was conveniently three times as large as his old one, conveniently already filled with cream and sugar, and conveniently right next to the pitcher. He made a mental note to stop by the kitchens this week.</p><p>“Theo,” Blaise said impatiently. “Of course it did.”</p><p>“He has no idea, and neither does Potter.” Theo gestured to the Gryffindor table, where Potter still sat between Weasley and Granger, tucking into a bowl of cornflakes like it was a normal Tuesday morning. “So it doesn’t count. We’re still on.” </p><p>Pansy blinked. “What?”</p><p>“The terms were to ‘guess the date on which one or both of the concerned parties divulges such information as to confirm the existence of past or present intimacy between said parties,’” Theo said, carefully pouring his coffee. “That’s the contract, right?”</p><p>Blaise, who had written the damn thing, nodded. Pansy scoffed. “Did you see his face?” she said, “did you see his hair? Come on, Theo, it’s so obvious—”</p><p>“I saw him wearing a red tie.” Theo shrugged, setting the coffee pitcher down. “And I saw Potter wearing a green one. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” He took a long drag from his goblet and set it down beside his plate. </p><p>“I suppose Draco didn’t technically confess,” Blaise said slowly.</p><p>“Please,” Pansy said. “Draco’s an idiot, but Potter’s bound to have said something by now. The whole hall saw him. He’s not that stupid.”</p><p>“You’d be surprised,” Blaise muttered.</p><p>True to his usual routine, Potter lagged behind nearly everyone else as the rest of the school filtered out of the hall and began making their way to their morning classes. He was still wearing the tie, and had just begun to tuck into a fresh grapefruit when Theo, Blaise, and Pansy finally left.</p><p>They hadn’t made it two steps into the hallway when someone grabbed Theo’s arm and tugged him down the hall into the empty Transfiguration classroom. Theo reached for his wand—why in Merlin’s name had he made a habit of tucking it in his <em> shoe— </em>but before he could reach it, the grip on his arm released and he stumbled into the side of a desk, catching the edge to balance himself.</p><p>Blaise and Pansy scrambled into the classroom behind him, panting. The door shut swiftly behind him, and Granger pocketed her wand.</p><p>“You know we’re not supposed to use magic in the castle unless it’s strictly necessary,” Blaise said, folding his arms. “Or else the younger students start copying us.”</p><p>“Not really my first concern right now,” Granger said stiffly. Beside her, Weasley looked red enough that Theo wondered how hard it would be to transfigure him into another grapefruit.</p><p>Blaise smirked. “And what is?”</p><p>“The fact that Harry’s shagging Malfoy, maybe?” Weasley raised an eyebrow. Granger winced, but didn’t correct him.</p><p>“You know that for sure, do you?” Blaise asked, not missing a beat.</p><p>Weasley hesitated, looking at Granger. She chewed her lip.</p><p>“Well,” she said slowly, “we don’t have proof, exactly, but—”</p><p><em> “Yes,” </em>Blaise hissed, then looked at Pansy, grinning. “Theo was right. This is perfect.”</p><p>“Perfect?” Granger echoed. “What part of this is perfect?”</p><p>“Did Potter <em> actually say </em> he was shagging Draco?” Blaise’s eyes sparkled, and Theo knew he’d take it from here.</p><p>Granger folded her arms. “Not in those words, exactly.”</p><p>“I asked him!” Weasley threw his hands up. “He waltzed over with that <em> thing </em>on his neck, and I said, ‘so that’s where you were last night, curled up in a Slytherin four poster,’ and he just laughed his head off and asked if I’d drunk firewhiskey instead of pumpkin juice.” He shook his head, bewildered. “And then I looked over and saw that git in red, and—”</p><p>“Oi,” Pansy barked.</p><p>“I don’t care if he’s trying to be a better person,” Weasley said, shrugging unapologetically. “He’s still a git.”</p><p>“Fair point,” Blaise agreed. Pansy huffed, but took the hint and didn't argue. </p><p>“Why are you so chipper about this?” Granger said shrewdly, looking between the three of them. </p><p>Theo and Pansy glanced at Blaise. “We have a bet going,” Blaise explained. “On when they’ll break the news. None of us had today—”</p><p>“Or this week,” Theo said.</p><p>“Or this month,” Pansy added. </p><p>“But since Draco didn’t say anything, and Potter didn’t either,” Theo said, “then technically we’re still on.”</p><p>Granger ran a hand over her face. Weasley however, looked intrigued. “How many people are betting?”</p><p>“Uh,” Blaise said. “Theo, what would you say, half a dozen?”</p><p>“Yeah, about,” Theo agreed. “All the eighth-year Slytherins, anyway.”</p><p>“Millicent thinks we’re wrong,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “Her head is so far up her own arse. She put her ten galleons on neither of them saying anything at all.”</p><p>“Oh, and Daphne said they’d hold out till May,” Theo remembered.</p><p>Blaise snorted. “As if Draco has that kind of patience.”</p><p>“As if <em> Harry </em>has that kind of patience,” Weasley said, laughing. The odd tension broke, and Weasley leaned back against a cabinet, folding his arms and reminiscing. “So when did this even start, anyway?” he asked, after a moment's thought. </p><p>“A month ago,” Pansy shrugged. “Just after Halloween.”</p><p>Granger’s eyes lit up, and Weasley clicked his tongue. “Of course,” he said, “that would explain—”</p><p>“The <em> parchment,” </em>Granger finished for him. She smacked her forehead. “How could I have missed it?”</p><p>“Not just the parchment,” Weasley said, chewing his bottom lip. “This… this explains the gloves, the Firebolt— that goblin-arsed prick, he’s been lying to us all year.”</p><p>“One month hardly qualifies as a year, Ron,” Granger chided. “And I, for one, think it’s understandable why he’d keep it quiet. You know the attention he gets if he so much as changes his socks.”</p><p>“But not from us,” Weasley said, and Theo felt an actual pang of sympathy. Gryffindors had a habit of garnering pity whenever they spoke. It was probably useful, but Merlin’s <em> beard </em>was it annoying.</p><p>“Draco didn’t tell us anything either,” he pointed out.</p><p>“Well, yeah, but—” Weasley shrugged. “We’re different. Saved the world together, all that.”</p><p>“So did we,” Blaise said, and ignored the way Weasley began to steam. “The point being,” Blaise went on, “the world’s not at stake anymore. So if Draco wants to be ridiculous about his obvious affair, so be it, but we’re going to have fun in the meantime. Worst case? He hexes my quills for a few weeks.”</p><p>Theo thought this was a bit of an understatement. If—who was he kidding, <em> when— </em>Draco found out about this particular bet, Blaise would be tromping around in pastels for a day, writing with an Itching Quill for a week, and regretting every life choice he’d ever made for at least a month. But Blaise was obviously trying something, so Theo didn’t correct him.</p><p>Weasley chewed his lip some more, and then he looked at Theo. “Ten galleons, was it?”</p><p>Theo blinked. “What?” he said blankly, and Blaise kicked him. </p><p>Weasley thrust a hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, ignorant to Blaise’s reprimand. “Damn,” he swore, after counting them. “’Mionie, how much have you got on you?”</p><p>The suggestion that Weasley would go behind his friend’s back and place a bet on his sex life was enough to break Granger out of her incessant pacing. She stopped short, goggling at him. “You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“Dead,” Weasley said. “I have seven galleons and ten sickles.” He turned back to Theo. “I’ve got more upstairs, d’you want me to fetch it?”</p><p>“Oh, we can add your name to the list,” Blaise assured him. “I’ll take the seven galleons as a deposit; give me the rest tomorrow.” Weasley nodded, handing over the gold.</p><p>“Ronald,” Granger hissed, as Blaise pocketed the galleons. “You are <em> not </em> doing this.”</p><p>“I am,” Weasley said, facing her— he was probably the only person in Hogwarts who would dare to stand up to Granger. Theo took a careful step back. “Come on, ‘Mione. I’m sore at Harry, and Zabini’s right— it’s not like we’re going behind his back and having a drink with Greyback. This is just a bit of fun. We’re not hurting anyone.”</p><p>“But of course you’re hurting him,” Granger insisted. “He has enough people prodding around in his personal life as it is, he doesn’t need <em> us—” </em></p><p>“We’re not prodding,” Weasley said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’re just… observing.”</p><p>“Exactly.” Blaise smiled, and Theo understood. Blaise had known he wouldn’t have been able to convince Granger himself, but of course she would listen to Weasley. Theo gave Blaise’s ankle a gentle tap in apology, and watched as Blaise bit his lip to hide a smile.</p><p>Theo had a sudden idea.</p><p>“I just can’t believe no one else saw him,” he said, tutting. “I mean, Potter walking around with a Slytherin tie? I’m surprised there wasn’t a schoolwide announcement.”</p><p>Granger snorted. “Oh, they saw him all right.”</p><p>“Seamus and Dean nearly wet themselves,” Weasley said, grinning.</p><p>“You don’t think they’ll talk?” Theo asked, trying to sound concerned. He, of course, didn’t care one way or the either what people said about Potter, but he knew these two did. Weasley’s grin faded and Granger bit her lip, starting to pace again. </p><p>“Damn,” Blaise said, “I didn’t think of that.” He gave Theo a meaningful look— <em> you’d better know what you’re doing.  </em></p><p>“Of course, we won’t say anything to Draco,” Theo said, “you know, because it’s against the rules.” He let that hang in the air for a second before snapping his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he said, looking at Granger; in her pacing she’d ended up closer to him than Weasley was, and it would probably look suspicious if Theo directed this over her shoulder and ignored her. “We need to get your lot in on it too,” he said. </p><p>Granger frowned. “How would that help?” she asked shrewdly.</p><p>Theo instantly realized that Weasley would have been a better target for this particular pitch, but there was no going back now. “Think about it,” he said, “if they don’t want it getting public before their date comes up, then they’ll keep quiet.”</p><p>“Unless they wanted to force results on their particular day,” Weasley cut in, but Blaise took a step forward and Theo knew he was in the clear.</p><p>“There’s a binding contract,” Blaise said authoritatively. “We’ve all signed it. 'No participant can force, coerce, or otherwise influence the concerned parties into divulging pertinent information, through action or lack thereof.'”</p><p>Weasley looked impressed. Granger looked thoughtful. “You’ve really put some thought into this, haven’t you?” she said to Blaise, who swelled with pride. Theo resisted the urge to laugh; as good as Blaise was at manipulating his peers, he always failed to realize when they did the same to him.</p><p>“All in the name of sport,” Theo said, smiling directly at Granger. “Like Weasley said, we’re just observing. Not interacting, not influencing. Just watching from the sidelines.”</p><p>Granger took a deep breath, held it, and let it out.</p><p>“All right, we’ll ask them,” she said, and Weasley seemed to float a few inches off the ground. “But <em> only </em>because I’m a little cross with him, too.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> The following is a list of rules pertaining to the bet. Any individuals who wish to participate must acknowledge via signature that they have read, understood, and agreed to abide by these terms until such time as the bet has ended.  </em>
</p>
<ol>
<li><em> All participating members, after paying a deposit fee of ten (10) galleons to the pool, shall claim a date and location, the date of which will be between the 1st of September, 1998, and the 30th of June, 1999. Separate parties may claim identical dates and locations so long as both do not overlap simultaneously. (Ex: one party may claim the 2nd of March, Great Hall, while another party claims the 2nd of March, Common Room, however both may not choose the 2nd of March, Great Hall.)</em></li>
<li><em> When one or more participants witnesses one or both of the concerned parties divulging such information as to confirm the existence of past or present intimacy between said parties, the participant(s) shall report the incident to the bet Writer. The integrity, date, and location of such divulgence will be assessed by the bet Writer, marking the end of the bet.</em></li>
<li><em> Upon the bet Writer confirming the correct date and location, the winner will be chosen and awarded eighty percent of the total betting pool, with the remaining twenty percent divided between the bet writing parties.</em></li>
<li><em> If no participant has claimed the date and time upon which one or both of the concerned parties divulges information, etc, the Writer will review all entries and determine a winner, or, if necessary, a tie. Winners shall be determined thusly:</em></li>
<li><em> A participant shall be determined the winner if they have claimed the closest date to that upon which one or both of the concerned parties has divulged information, etc, regardless of correct location.</em></li>
<li><em> If two participants select dates equidistant from the correct date, the winner will be selected based on their choice of location. (e.g. if the correct date is December 10th, Great Hall, and the two closest selected dates are December 5th, Grounds, and December 15th, Common Room, the second participant claims the win.) Upon identical locations, the pool shall be distributed evenly.</em></li>
<li><em> No participant may force, coerce, or otherwise influence the concerned parties into divulging pertinent information, through action or lack thereof. Upon doing so, the participant faces disqualification and must pay an additional twenty galleon fee to the pool, all of which shall be claimed by the bet writing parties.</em></li>
</ol>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Which Theo Acquires a New Job</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Potter and Draco either never realized that they’d switched clothes on Tuesday morning, or else were hoping no one had noticed. Theo really wanted to believe that Draco wasn’t quite that stupid, but those were the only two possibilities, and they both required Draco and Potter to be properly dense. </p><p>But neither of them said a word about the incident, and apart from when Theo caught Finnigan and Thomas surreptitiously passing Blaise a sack of coins under the study table on Thursday night, the rest of the week was uneventful.</p><p>It wasn’t until Saturday that something truly interesting happened. </p><p>The week had been grueling. They were fully done with review work now that it was December, which meant they were tackling the main meat of their seventh-year classes. The last teacher to hold out had been Slughorn, who had insisted on taking his time through the older lessons. <em> “The sixth-year curriculum is crucial to understanding any further potions theory,” </em> he’d told them at the start of term, before going on to remark how their average sixth-year marks had been rather lackluster.</p><p>But it was now three months later, and Slughorn had finally decided to begin teaching them the proper materials for their seventh-year level education. And while they’d consistently complained to each other for the last three months just how boring it was to relearn everything they’d covered two years ago, none of them had been properly prepared for the workload that came with a proper seventh-year potions class.</p><p>By Saturday, they were all exhausted. The only saving grace to be found was that, given the circumstances of last year, the eighth-year class was allowed to waive two of their N.E.W.T. exams at the end of the year, to receive a simple pass or fail grade. It was a relief for most of them, with the notable exception of Granger. </p><p>She, obviously, had opted to take all the proper exams, and had formed a militant-style study group that met during weekday evenings and all day through the weekends. They sat around the table by the window and commandeered all the spare chairs. </p><p>All the spare chairs except the large, red plush one that had been stolen from Gryffindor Tower. No one knew who’d stolen it— Theo would put his money on Potter, even though most people thought he was too virtuous to steal a piece of school property. </p><p>Honestly. Potter had stolen a <em> dragon. </em>Why anyone thought he was prim and proper was beyond Theo. </p><p>The chair lived next to the window by the fireplace. By day it warmed itself under sunlight, and by night it warmed by the fire. It was the perfect temperature at any given time, and Theo suspected it had to be under some sort of charm that kept its cushions thoroughly plump and squashy.</p><p>It was an unspoken rule they all followed that, if he was in the room, Potter had precedent over the chair. Potter himself had never enforced this, which might have spoken to the whole virtuous thing— but he hadn’t bothered to dissuade people from avoiding it either. Most of them just gave the chair a generous berth, to avoid having to pack up and move if Potter came into the common room unexpectedly.</p><p>This morning Granger’s study group was huddled by the other window, discussing McGonagall’s latest essay. Pansy had given her draft to Granger, and Theo watched her wince every time Granger scribbled over it, sour red marks streaking from the tip of her quill. Granger was framed against the window, which gave a beautiful view of the storm outside. Lightning cast her in a frightening backlight every few minutes. She looked like a dramatized painting of an old warlock they’d learn about in History of Magic, whose true life and history had been violently skewed by the passage of time. Granger crossed a line out just as another bolt of lightning struck, and Pansy shivered.</p><p>Theo held no pity; Pansy had asked for it. He turned back to his book, content to wait until tomorrow to start working on anything. He typically pushed his homework off until Sunday, not wanting to taint the beginning of his weekend with too much critical thought. </p><p>The common room door opened and Potter swept in. He was soaked from head to toe, clad in his flying gear, and carrying a broomstick over his shoulder. The mud on his ankles dripped in his wake, and Theo knew it would be gone from the carpets by noon. The house-elves that still worked at Hogwarts after the war were so grateful to the eighth-years that they cleaned the common room spotless every time they got the chance. It was a tad annoying, especially if Theo left something lying about between classes. He’d dash back up to grab it, discover it missing, and have to rummage in the boy’s dormitory to find it packed neatly away in the drawers beside his bed. </p><p>A few people gave Potter a welcoming nod as he made his way into the common room. He set his broomstick down by Granger’s study group— it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal it, but Theo understood why Potter might want to keep it under a watchful eye— and stretched his arms over his head. </p><p>“Need anything, Hermione?” he asked, looking at the mess of books and papers that were strewn over the table. “I can fetch you something from the kitchens if you want.” </p><p>“Oh, thank you,” Granger said, looking up from Pansy’s essay, “but you really don’t need to, I’m all right.” </p><p>“Suit yourself.” Potter patted her shoulder, and Granger tried her best not to wince at the mess of rainwater, burrs, and mud that was now on her sleeve. Theo hid a silent laugh behind his book, just in case she glanced his way. She’d been <em> doing that </em>recently.</p><p>After handing the rest of Weasley’s ante to Blaise along with her own, she’d begun to make meaningful eye contact with Theo, Blaise, and Pansy with alarming frequency. Theo still hadn’t deciphered what this meant. Was she disappointed? Disapproving? Keeping an eye on them in case they tried anything, despite having demanded a copy of the bet contract for herself and therefore knowing that they were forbidden to interfere? It was probably a combination of all three. Regardless, they all despised it. </p><p>Theo sensed the glare just in time. He looked down at his book and felt her gaze scrape his forehead. After a moment she decided nothing was amiss, and the weight of her stare lifted as she focused her attention back on Potter.</p><p>“Harry, why don’t you take a shower and join us?” she asked. “I know for a fact you haven’t touched your Transfiguration textbook since you dropped it off on Monday.” </p><p>Potter gave a guilty look. “Well,” he said, looking down at his robes. “I suppose. But—”</p><p>“Good,” Granger said, promptly turning back to Pansy’s essay. “Now go and get changed.” </p><p>“Oh, let him slack off if he wants to,” drawled a voice from the fireplace. Potter and Granger turned abruptly to stare at the back of the chair by the fire, behind which a pair of legs could be seen dangling off the armrest.</p><p>The room took a sudden interest. No one had noticed Draco was there, which Theo could only assume had been his plan. Despite being the most dramatic person in the castle— besides perhaps Potter himself— Draco was remarkably good at remaining unnoticed when he wanted to be.</p><p>But now he’d announced himself to the room with no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, and everyone watched the chair with baited breath. Everyone except Blaise, who shut his book quietly and pulled out a blank piece of parchment.</p><p>“Malfoy,” Granger said tartly, “I don’t believe Harry’s decisions are any of your business.”</p><p>“Nor are they yours,” Draco said, still not bothering to show his face. They heard a loud page turning. <em> Dramatic bastard. </em>“If he wants to skive off his work, let him.”</p><p>Draco was playing a dangerous game, antagonizing Granger. She hadn’t been all that enthusiastic about giving him a second chance this year, and she wasn’t alone. Most of the eighth-year class tiptoed around him, with the Gryffindors staring daggers at him whenever he spoke up in class and the Hufflepuffs avoiding him completely. </p><p>It was frankly bizarre that Draco was here, living and studying with the rest of them, when just a year ago he’d been working with the Dark Lord— Merlin’s sake, <em> Voldemort. </em>Also bizarre was the fact that the rest of the Slytherins were here too, with two noticeable exceptions: Gregory Goyle was in Azkaban, and Vincent Crabbe was dead.</p><p>Exactly a month after the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was now known, the students in their year had each received a letter from the Ministry. The ones written to the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw class had been fairly cut-and-dry, simply outlining plans for an eighth-year class and assuring them that they would be safe behind the walls of Hogwarts.</p><p>The ones written to Theo, Blaise, Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne were fifteen pages long.</p><p>Overburdened with a massive staff upheaval and a swath of Death Eaters to sift through, the letters had explained, the Ministry wasn’t going to waste its time bringing them in person and sitting through five identical trials. Instead, Theo had written his appeal, mailed it off along with a note from his godfather, and two days later received an official pardon and invitation for an extended eighth year at Hogwarts. </p><p>Draco, of course, wasn’t nearly as lucky. Voldemort had taken refuge in his house, even if Draco himself hadn’t had a say in the matter. His father had taken the brunt of the blame, and no one had argued against him.</p><p>Lucius Malfoy, along with five other Death Eaters, had been found guilty and received a life sentence in Azkaban. The trial was both quick and heavily publicized, and Theo suspected it was because the Ministry had wanted to deliver some good news as swiftly as possible.</p><p>Theo, Pansy, and Blaise had waited with baited breath for two weeks before Draco and his mother finally faced the Ministry. After a long and lengthy trial, they’d eventually been granted a year of strict parole, with Draco returning to Hogwarts alongside his classmates. And aside from the offhanded mention to distract Blaise and Pansy, Draco didn’t bring up the subject of his father that much. </p><p>Not for the first time, Theo idly wondered if his own father was better off dead in the end. Everything was so damn complicated. </p><p>Thunder boomed.</p><p>Granger scribbled something down on Pansy’s essay, not bothering to look up as she addressed Draco. “I didn’t spend months camping out in the wilderness in the middle of winter, hiding from Snatchers and Death Eaters and Voldemort himself,” she said, striking a red line sharply over the parchment, “so I could come back here and take advice from <em> you.”  </em></p><p>“S’ not the point,” Draco drawled, uncrossing his legs lazily. “It’s his life, not yours. So it’s none of your business.”</p><p>For someone on parole, Draco sounded remarkably unconcerned with picking a fight. Not that Granger, Weasley, or Potter were the voice of the Ministry, of course, but most of the castle tended to get on their good side nowadays. Draco, apparently, wasn’t interested in sucking up. </p><p>Maybe that was a good thing, Theo mused, but wasn’t a Slytherin’s nature to get on the good side of who you wanted? </p><p>
  <em> Merlin’s ballsack. Potter’s rubbing off on him.  </em>
</p><p>Lightning struck, igniting the lake in a brilliant white light for a fraction of a second before vanishing in an instant, and in that moment Theo saw Potter’s face in absolute clarity. He was looking at the back of the chair by the fire with wide, fearful eyes. He’d been uncharacteristically silent ever since Draco had spoken, and as Theo tightened the grip on his book, he suddenly realized <em> why.  </em></p><p>They were truly, <em> properly </em> together, not just shagging under the cover of night, not just sneaking about in abandoned classrooms and swapping clothes for a laugh. Potter’s brash personality was beginning to show in Draco's. Potter was biting his tongue to keep from lashing out and revealing that he cared. Both had changed for the other, and that could only mean one thing. Real, actual <em> feelings </em>were involved.</p><p>The sound of a chair scooting backwards over hardwood flooring yanked Theo from his thoughts. Granger had stood up, and now took a pointed step towards the chair by the fire.</p><p>“Listen here, Malfoy,” she said through gritted teeth. “If it weren’t for me, Harry wouldn’t be here right now. So you don’t get to tell me that his life is none of my business.” </p><p>“I do, actually,” Draco said. The legs folded again, and they all heard the sound of a book snapping shut. Even though he wasn’t standing, it felt like they were about to duel one another. The study group was all staring in stunned silence, and everyone else around the room had abandoned their projects to watch.</p><p>Potter was looking agitatedly between Granger and the chair, clearly torn.</p><p>Yesterday, Theo would have thought the solution was obvious: side with Granger and argue with Draco like he’d done for the past seven years of his life. But if Theo’s assumption was correct… Well, Draco had been defending <em> him </em>in the first place. If Potter sided against him, a fight was sure to follow.</p><p>Blaise, meanwhile, had his quill poised. </p><p>Theo stood up. </p><p>“Er, excuse me,” he said, holding his book to his chest just in case Granger fired off an instinctive hex. Her wand was tucked in her bookbag under the table, out of arm’s reach, but Theo didn't doubt she could cast a flawless Bat-Bogey hex even without it.</p><p>No one had expected him to speak. Granger looked infuriated, Potter faintly relieved, and out of the corner of his eye Theo could see Blaise nearly drop his quill, astounded. From the chair, a tuft of blond hair emerged. Draco raised a sullen eyebrow at him, refusing to grace Theo’s interruption with an answer. Theo took a breath. “Draco, to be fair,” he said, “out of everyone in the room, Granger probably knows Potter better than anyone else. So if anyone can guess what he wants, it’s going to be her.” </p><p>Draco’s mouth fell open, and Granger beamed victoriously. Beside Theo, Blaise scribbled furiously on his parchment.</p><p>“That being said,” Theo added before anyone else could talk, and Granger’s attention snapped back to him. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings. Theo cleared his throat to buy a little time— he had to choose his words carefully. He was a <em> Slytherin, </em>damn it, he was supposed to be good at this. “Draco does have a point,” he said. “Unless you’re using Legilimency right now, you can’t actually know what Potter’s thinking. Or what's best for him.” </p><p>It felt a bit odd to refer to Potter in the third person while he was right there, staring at Theo with a mixture of awe and gratitude. He looked like he was about to cry. Neither Granger nor Draco noticed this, as they were both still staring at Theo. He realized they were waiting for him to say something, give some sort of conclusion. Theo cleared his throat. It was hard to feel confident with Granger’s manic energy primed at him. She looked, if it were possible, even more intimidating with her hair askew from hours of essay writing, her robes disheveled and mud-stained.</p><p>Maybe appealing to Granger’s argument would make her more likely to listen to his own. If it was framed within the same logic, perhaps she’d consider it with the same rationale. “We didn’t fight a war last year just to come back here and fight with each other,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. </p><p>Granger considered this for a long moment, then took a deep breath. </p><p>“Malfoy,” she said at last. “I’m— sorry.” </p><p>“Draco,” said Draco.</p><p>This was clearly the last thing Granger had expected. It was the last thing anyone else had expected either, judging by the few intakes of breath that echoed around the common room. </p><p>“Well, we survived a war together,” Draco said, shrugging. “I think we should be on a first name basis by now, don’t you?” </p><p>“Draco’s right,” Potter said, cutting in for the first time, and Theo instantly understood what Draco had done. That damn sneak. Potter’s words, meanwhile, had instantly cut the tension in two. “Hermione,” Potter said, “I’m gonna take a shower and have a lie-in, I’m tired. Can I borrow one of your study guides later, though?”</p><p>This was an agreeable compromise. Granger nodded. “Anything you’ll need extra help with?”</p><p>“If you could copy some of your notes from Transfiguration, that’d be <em> lovely.” </em>He kissed her forehead over her hair, which was nothing new, and gave her arm another firm pat. Her sleeves matched now, and Theo hurriedly opened his book to hide a smile. </p><p>“All right. You’re hopeless, you know,” Granger told Potter fondly. </p><p>Satisfied, Potter stretched his arms again. No doubt he was ecstatic that the conflict had resolved without drastic measures. He strode to the door that led to the corridor with his hands clasped behind his head, tracking mud as he went.</p><p>“Keep an eye on my Firebolt!” he called, and tugged the door shut behind him. Granger tutted, but smiled.</p><p>The room slowly returned to its gentle rumble. There were a few sour faces from those who’d assumed they were about to witness a full-blown dramatic reveal, Blaise included, but the rest of them were just eager to move on with their work now that the threat of a fight was gone. </p><p>After a few minutes, Draco abandoned the chair by the fire and left through the common room door, muttering something about the library. Really, Theo thought, the <em>library.</em> They couldn’t have picked a less conspicuous place, truly. </p><p>The moment Draco was gone, Blaise caught Theo’s eye and nodded sharply to the chair beside him. Theo swallowed thickly, gave a casual smile, and sat down. </p><p>Blaise leaned close. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, voice low.</p><p>Theo shrugged. “Trying to keep Draco from throwing himself into Azkaban, why d’you ask?” </p><p>Blaise scoffed. “He’s not going to get thrown in Azkaban for bickering with Granger, Theo.” He frowned. “What are you playing at?” </p><p>Theo put on his best <em> I’m confused what you mean </em>face. “Blaise, come on,” he said. “You know Draco. He likes being dramatic. He likes winning. I wouldn’t put it past him to forget what’s at stake, just to prove a point.” </p><p>“Theo.” Blaise thumped his fist on the table, over the blank piece of parchment he’d been poised over minutes ago. “If you’re trying to hold them off until it’s your date—”</p><p>Theo huffed affronted. “Seriously, Blaise?” He pushed his chair out and stood. “I know this bet is fun and all, but if Draco’s going to pick fights with someone as important as Granger, then I’m going to intervene.” He sat back in his old chair and picked up his book, hoping he could pass off his desperate want for Blaise to leave him alone as simple irritation. “If you care that much about Galleons, go get yourself a niffler.”</p><p>It hit, just like he’d hoped. Blaise made a small indignant sound and picked his things up, storming off towards the boy’s dormitory. Good, Theo thought. If he’d hit a nerve, that would keep Blaise from thinking too much about what had just happened.</p><p>He waited for a few minutes and, when Blaise still hadn’t reappeared, tucked his book into his robe pocket and hurried out of the common room, head spinning.</p><p>Draco and Potter were actually <em> dating. </em></p><p>This was a bad thing. This was such a bad thing. The eighth-years were all here on special terms to finish their education, none more than Draco. He’d barely been allowed to come back to Hogwarts at all. So why, <em> why </em> in Merlin’s name had he chosen <em> now </em>to throw away his judgement?</p><p>Well, Theo reasoned, slipping behind a tapestry to reach his favorite hidden staircase, Draco had always been dramatic, and that had led to a few memorable lapses in judgement in their previous years. </p><p>But Theo couldn’t imagine what Draco was going to be like if, months from now, he was still in love but feeling the effects of having to hide it for so long. No, it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. Draco was going to get himself thrown in prison. Or Potter was going to get himself a press storm from hell. Or both. Or worse. Whatever inevitably happened, Draco was bound to blame himself, forget to process that convenient information, and take it out on anyone and everyone around him— which really didn’t bode well for the whole <em> being-in-a-relationship </em>thing he’d decided to try out.</p><p>Potter would inevitably be heartbroken, Theo determined, jogging down the stairs. And so Draco would be heartbroken in return.</p><p><em> Why couldn’t they just have been shagging? </em> he thought bitterly as he reached the bottom of the hidden stairwell. He crept out from under the tapestry, trying not to let any of the younger years spot him. Sure, they’d figure out how to sneak around the castle in their own time, but the eighth-years weren’t supposed to encourage that sort of behavior. </p><p>The kitchens were a short jog from the lower tapestry. Theo had enough time to go over his worries once more before he tickled the pear, and the painting swung open. </p><p>Honey-sweet air met his nose and he sighed happily, heading inside. </p><p>Molrey was one of the only house-elves Theo had managed to recognize after spending seven years at Hogwarts. He hated to say that they all looked the same, but compared to the humans that swarmed the castle, the house-elves tended to blur together. Molrey was about a head taller than the other elves, with slightly bigger ears and constantly-squinting eyes. Theo had once offered to find him glasses, but the elf had flatly refused, insisting that glasses counted as “wearable attire.” </p><p>“Master Nott!” Molrey squeaked, running over to greet him.</p><p>“Hey,” Theo said, kneeling down. “Got any coconut profiteroles left?” </p><p>“Right away, sir,” Molrey said happily, and rushed back into the crowd of elves. Theo wandered to the far wall, sat on a low stool, and waited, just enjoying the atmosphere.</p><p>Theo had never been in the Hufflepuff common room, but he imagined it was something like this. Homey, with a low ceiling and dim, warm light. Probably bustling with people, with a persistent smell of sweet spices and good food. It was just down the hallway from the kitchens themselves, which was probably why Theo imagined they had similar designs. That, and because he wasn’t about to ask Macmillan or Finch-Fletchley for clarification.</p><p>Come to think of it, he didn’t know if he’d ever talked to either of them. Not since the start of this year, at least. Finch-Fletchley hadn’t come to Hogwarts at all last year. Theo couldn’t blame him, not with his blood status. On the other hand, Theo had remembered seeing Macmillan a few times that year, particularly with that little underground gang Potter had put together.</p><p>He doubted either Macmillan or Finch-Fletchley wanted to talk to him. Even if they got past the house bias, what would they even talk about? <em> How’s your potions work coming along? Also, remember that time you had a secret illegal homework club and we tried to rat you out, and you gave Pansy antlers, and we busted you for using the Floo network, and almost got one of you tortured by Death Eaters, because we were fifteen and didn’t have the best grasp on moral behavior or consequences yet? Yeah, me too.  </em></p><p>Right. Perfect. By Christmas, they’d be chums. </p><p>“...didn’t thank you yet, for that.” </p><p>Theo froze. Above the house-elves' rummaging and banging, a voice carried over from around a low corner. Potter’s voice. Which meant—</p><p>“Thank me?” Draco’s voice answered, sounding confused. “For what?” </p><p>“What you were saying back there,” Potter said. “I know it wasn’t big, but still. I appreciate it. To be honest, Hermione's been getting under my skin lately. I know she means well, and she’s just stressed, and of course I love her, but…  I wish she wouldn’t take it out on me.”</p><p>“Mm,” was Draco’s response. </p><p>“She only bullies <em> me</em>. Ron's immune," Potter said, and snorted. "He’s allowed to bully her back, now that they’re. You know.”</p><p>“You can say ‘together.’ It won’t kill you,” Draco said flatly. Potter gave no response. “You can say <em> we’re </em>together,” Draco added. “That wouldn't kill you either.” </p><p>Theo winced. It was a good line, but perhaps not the best time to use it. </p><p>“I just,” Potter said after a minute. “I don’t want them to start treating me differently. Everyone else already treats me differently, I don’t want them to change too.” </p><p>“Well, I’m treating you differently, and you don’t seem to mind,” Draco said. </p><p>“That’s different,” Potter said dismissively. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I <em> like </em>it.” </p><p>Draco laughed, and then Potter laughed, and then they both stopped and Theo tried very hard to imagine he wasn’t sitting five feet away from whatever was happening around the corner. But any hopes of imagining that he wasn’t in the kitchens was shattered when a plate landed in his lap, stacked tall with profiteroles. </p><p>“There you are, Master Nott,” Molrey squeaked, and Theo’s blood ran cold. “Is there anything else I can be helping you with today, sir?” </p><p>“No,” he said, as he heard muffled movement and faint swearing. “No, that’s— we’re good, this is great. Thank you. I’ll just take these, and I’ll be on my way, and—”</p><p>
  <em> “Theo.”  </em>
</p><p>Molrey squeaked again, this time in terror, as Draco appeared from around the corner looking absolutely murderous, a sheepish Potter in tow. Molrey gave a quick bow to both Draco and Theo and then turned tail, sprinting back to work. </p><p>“Uh,” Theo said, over the crest of his profiterole mountain. “In my defense,” he said, “I thought you were going to the library.” </p><hr/><p>“So,” Potter said ten minutes later, through a mouthful of coconut cream. “You’re not going to say anything, yes?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Theo promised. </p><p>“Really,” Draco said, clearly not believing this sudden bout of charity. “You won’t tell a single person that Harry Potter, Golden Boy of Hogwarts, is getting a leg over behind the kitchens?” </p><p><em> “I—” </em> Potter smacked Draco’s shoulder. “We were <em> not—”  </em></p><p>“Promise,” Theo said, nodding. He looked at the plate of profiteroles sitting on the floor between them. There weren’t exactly tables and chairs down here, but they’d found a bit of floor that wasn’t being used. Potter and Draco were both leaning back against the wall, while Theo had to keep himself upright on his own. Utterly unfair.</p><p>“Why?” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes. “What do you stand to gain?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Theo said honestly.</p><p>Draco scowled. He looked to Potter. “I don’t believe him.” </p><p>“Why not?” Potter was still flushed. “It’s not so unbelievable. Some people just want to do good things, Draco.” </p><p>“Harry, I <em> know </em>Theo,” Draco snapped. Then, at Theo, “Did Blaise put you up to this?” </p><p>“No!” Theo said instantly, trying not to laugh. “No, definitely not.” </p><p>“So Blaise is involved,” Draco muttered. “Interesting.” </p><p>Fear started to take root. “He’s not,” Theo tried, “honest.” </p><p>Draco put a hand over his face and slowly dragged it down. “Merlin’s ballsack,” he groaned. “Harry, if you don’t get us found out, <em> he’s </em>going to.” Despite the fact that he spoke firmly and his shoulders were square, Theo noticed Draco’s hands were shaking. </p><p>Right. If it was this much of a fear for the both of them, then the truth would be kinder. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about witnessing their friends’ initial reactions. Theo set his profiterole down on his lap, trying not to get too much coconut cream on his robes.</p><p>“Well,” he said, wondering how best to put it, “some people have already… guessed.”</p><p><em> “What?” </em>Potter and Draco barked, in tandem incredulity. Potter dropped half a profiterole on the ground, and Draco leaned so far forward that the profiterole tower brushed his sleeves with powdered sugar.</p><p>“There’s a bet going on!” Theo said quickly, putting his hands up in defense. “About you two, and when you’ll go public.” </p><p>If Theo had put money on it, he would have bet on Potter being the more expressive one. But now as he watched them react to the news that there was an underground betting ring about their love life, he wondered how he’d ever assumed someone could be more dramatic than Draco. While Potter's nostrils just flared, Draco skipped pink and went straight to scarlet.</p><p>“Most of the Gryffindors are in on it too,” Theo added, wondering if Potter truly was more dramatic, and he just hadn’t hit a nerve yet. Sure enough, Potter rounded on him, eyes wide.</p><p>
  <em> “Who?”  </em>
</p><p>“Uh,” Theo said. “Finnigan, Thomas, er.” He looked at Draco. This was a mistake. </p><p>“You’re kidding.” Draco shook his head. “Weasley, too?” Theo nodded. <em> “Granger?”  </em></p><p>“Granger, huh," Theo said, pressing the one and only advantage he had. "I thought you were supposed to be on a first name basis.” He picked up his profiterole and took a bite, closing his eyes as fresh coconut cream met his tongue at last.</p><p>Draco folded his arms and scowled. </p><p>Potter, meanwhile, leaned back and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Merlin. How did I not know.”  </p><p>“Well,” Theo said, “in the terms of Blaise's contract—” </p><p>“There’s a <em> contract—”  </em></p><p>“—no one’s allowed to, er, coerce you into revealing anything, see. So no one could just ask you upfront, or say something to make you admit it.”</p><p>Potter took a moment to process this, and the quick-start anger ebbed away. “So even if they wanted to,” he said quietly, and Theo knew he meant Weasley and Granger, “they couldn’t tell me they were okay with it.” </p><p>Theo’s heart turned over. If Potter was taking the news this badly, Draco was about to go on the warpath. There had to be some sort of a solution, but Theo couldn’t find one. </p><p>“So,” Draco said, prodding the silence apart with his usual lack of tact. “When did you pick?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Draco shrugged. “I’m curious. When did you bet on us saying something?” </p><p>It had to be a trap. “Er,” Theo said, “June 5th. I didn’t know Potter’s birthday, but I thought he might do something for yours.” He didn’t mention that he’d specifically put his money on the common room. Sure, they were both dramatic, but Theo had been banking less on an intentional reveal and more on an accidental show of affection that no one could ignore. Perhaps Potter would start playing with Draco’s hair, or present Draco with a gift and receive a kiss in return. Given how disgusting they were, it seemed the most likely outcome.</p><p>Draco considered this. “Huh,” he said. “Well, you’re not too far off.”</p><p>Theo blinked, and it clicked. Draco’s parole. Theo could have smacked himself.</p><p>This explained everything. If word got out to the public that Potter was dating, actually <em> dating </em>Draco Malfoy, what would happen to the all-important sway he held at the Ministry? Potter’s word had been a key factor in deciding the Malfoy family’s fate, Draco’s especially. What good would that word be if he was declared to be biased?</p><p>Theo tried to remember the key details surrounding Draco’s sentence. His parole was set to expire by the end of term. Once his exam results came in, he had to appear in court once more for a final re-examination that took his marks and his professors’ comments into account. And then, finally, if he passed all of that… he’d be free to go.</p><p>They were going to wait it out. Draco, who couldn’t be arsed to make his own coffee in the morning if someone else’s was tempting him, was going to wait until the end of the year to say or show anything about their relationship. </p><p>Theo could almost feel himself sinking into the ground.</p><p>Potter, to Theo’s immense surprise, snorted a laugh. “Fancy that, eh? A couple more weeks and you’d have won.” And then he sat up quite suddenly, fire in his eyes. “Nott,” he said, “Nott. <em> Win the bet.”  </em></p><p><em> “What?” </em>both Theo and Draco said together, goggling at Potter.</p><p>“Change your date,” Potter said, grinning madly.  “Tell Zabini you want to put your money on the day after exams. June 21st.” He looked at Draco. “I don’t know how you’re going to go on trial a day after sitting through a seventh-year History of Magic exam, honestly, I don’t.” </p><p>“I’ll survive,” Draco said placidly. "If my reward is getting to snog you in front of a room full of smug Gryffindors, Harry, I'll do just about anything." </p><p>Potter practically melted. Theo bit his tongue, trying not to gag. </p><p>“That fact aside,” Draco said, and his voice had twisted into sweet, terrifying false patience, “why are you telling Theo to win?” </p><p>“Because,” Potter said, turning his frenetic energy towards Draco, “this solves everything. That stupid contract, did you hear him? No one’s allowed to <em> say anything. </em>If we carry on like this, with Nott around to cover us—”</p><p>“I will?” </p><p>“—then we don’t have to worry about anything getting out, or anyone getting proof or going to the <em> Prophet. </em>Draco, this is perfect.” </p><p>Potter looked like he was about to cry. Draco, meanwhile, had lost every drop of annoyance he’d been showing Potter. "It does make sense," he said slowly.</p><p>“I can’t just change my date,” Theo protested. <em> Please, Merlin, </em> he thought, <em> don’t make me do this. </em> “Blaise will see through me in a second, he’ll ask why I want to change, and I’ll have to tell him <em> something.” </em></p><p>Draco, whose attention was almost completely on Potter by this point, waved his concern away. “Don’t tell him why,” he said, as though this were obvious. “Just let him assume you have your reasoning, he’ll come up with an excuse on his own."</p><p>“I really doubt that’s going to work,” Theo pleaded, knowing it would.</p><p>“Nott,” Potter said, leaning on the table now. “You’ll get the pool when you win, won’t you?”</p><p>“I— suppose—” Theo spluttered. “But it wouldn’t be sporting to win a bet if you know the winning number, would it?” This was it, one last appeal, targeting Potter's morality. Unfortunately, Potter happened to be sitting next to Draco.</p><p>“So give us the Galleons,” Draco said impatiently. </p><p>“Yeah,” Potter agreed, to Theo’s surprise. Either he was a lot more devious than Theo had assumed, or Draco had been rubbing off on him in turn. “If they’re going to bet behind our backs, they can take the consequences.”</p><p>There was no getting out of this. Potter, it seemed, was particularly moved to hear that Granger and Weasley had participated. Well, even if Theo’s fate was sealed, he was at least glad that they would take most of the blame. He was going to need a bit of misdirection if he was going to pull this off without getting burned.</p><p>“All right,” he said at last, closing his eyes and accepting his doom. “Fine.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In Which Both Herbology and Christmas Cause Some Difficulty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For two blissful days, Theo managed to convince himself that the task he’d wound up with was feasible.</p><p>Blaise appeared to believe that Theo had spoken up to stop Draco from picking a fight, and barely batted an eye when Theo asked to change his date. Potter and Draco, despite their mutual love of theatrics, kept a surprisingly low profile. For two days, neither spoke more than a few polite words to the other. Draco vacated the chair by the fire, Potter addressed him by his surname twice, and they both seemed generally disinterested in one another. The buzz of excitement that a well-timed dramatic reveal would be on the horizon began to die down as everyone’s coursework took precedent. </p><p>And then, of course, it all went tits up.</p><p>Theo didn’t like being late, but he’d forgotten to grab his dragonhide gloves and the spare pairs Professor Sprout offered were too tattered for his liking. And so he found himself jogging up to Greenhouse Six, five minutes after class had started, with his gloves under one arm and his bookbag under the other.</p><p>Theo knew something was wrong the moment he stepped inside. Professor Sprout was apparently running just as late as he was, because there wasn't a trace of her trademark burlap hat. But the entire classroom was whispering to one another, heads bent low. Theo scanned the room, trying to figure out what had happened, but no one appeared to have been bitten by a tentacula. No one was sporting extra limbs. Today’s lesson didn’t even look exciting, as their tables were only lined with soil pots. The only thing remotely interesting about them was that the soil sparkled, but they’d been using <em> Glacius-</em>charmed dirt for weeks.</p><p>It was remarkably odd to walk into a greenhouse and feel the temperature drop twenty degrees. But Arctic plants were sleepier and much more docile than their tropical counterparts, so none of the eighth-years complained. By now most of them remembered to wear their scarves, hats, and woollen socks to Herbology, ignoring the double-takes from second and third-years as they passed.</p><p>A sliver of cold air squirreled down Theo’s neck and he shivered, pulling the door shut behind him. No one had noticed his late entrance. Everyone was still talking to one another in barely-hushed voices, hunched over the greenhouse tables like they were afraid of getting caught. </p><p>Theo found Blaise and Pansy in the back left corner with an empty seat saved between them. Blaise had his grey scarf tied backwards to keep it out of harm’s way from the dirt, and Pansy had a thick knitted hat pulled down to her eyes. Blaise caught Theo’s eye and gestured him over. Theo’s stomach began to tie itself into a large, complicated knot as he squeezed his way to the back of the greenhouse, trying not to knock anything over with his bookbag.</p><p>“What’s up?” he hissed as he finally reached them, setting his bag under the bench. “Why’s everyone gone quiet?” </p><p>Blaise opened his mouth, but Pansy beat him to it. “Draco’s in the hospital wing,” she said, practically vibrating. “No one knows what’s wrong with him. Pomfrey won’t let anyone visit.”</p><p>“What?” Theo set his gloves on the table and began the laborious process of putting one on. “That means it’s got to be serious, right?” </p><p>Again, Blaise made to speak, and again, Pansy got there first. “They’re saying he got attacked,” she said, not bothering to keep her voice low. It didn’t matter, as most of the class was too busy gossiping to one another to listen.</p><p><em> “I </em>think that’s bollocks,” Blaise said firmly.</p><p>“Blaise,” Pansy said, in a tone of voice that told Theo they’d been arguing about this for a while.</p><p>“Pansy, come off it,” Blaise said, rolling his eyes. “Think about it. If Draco really did get attacked by some Gryffindor nutter seeking revenge, do you really think <em> he'd </em>be the one in a hospital bed?” </p><p>“Well, maybe,” Pansy said crossly. “You don’t know what happened, Blaise. Someone could have cursed him.”</p><p>“Then we’d have heard about it,” Blaise said, shaking his head. “Whoever did it would’ve been expelled.” </p><p>“Well,” Pansy said, “it’s more plausible than your theory, anyway.” She looked at Theo. <em> “He </em>thinks it’s got something to do with Potter.”</p><p>“Keep your voice down,” Blaise hissed. </p><p>Personally, Theo wholeheartedly agreed with Blaise. But of course Blaise wasn’t to know that. “What?” he said blankly.</p><p>“I reckon it’s some sort of distraction,” Blaise explained. “To take everyone’s attention off of Potter.” </p><p>“Draco’s been trying to take people’s attention away from Potter for years,” Pansy said, dismissing Blaise’s completely accurate theory. “It’s never worked before. Why would it work now?” </p><p><em> Because none of us care about House rivalries anymore, </em> Theo thought. Blaise, on the other hand, began launching into a series of reasons why of <em> course </em> his point had more credibility, and <em> why </em> did Pansy think that a flying rumour was even <em> remotely </em>true, and—</p><p>Theo, meanwhile, looked over the rows of pots to the other side of the greenhouse. Potter was sitting alone, a scarf tied around his face. At least he’d gotten the colors right this time. A table over, Granger and Weasley had commandeered a pot beside Finnigan and Thomas. Potter, Theo noticed, had a broken quill beside his parchment, and was now scribbling with such force that Theo considered it a miracle he hadn’t broken the table in half already. That didn’t bode well. </p><p>Surreptitiously, Theo slid his second dragonhide glove off the table and kicked it under the bench. “Damn,” he said loudly, “I only grabbed one glove. Hang on, I’ve got to get a spare.” </p><p>Blaise and Pansy each gave equally disinterested waves as Theo slung himself off the bench and hurried to the back of the greenhouse. The spare bin was sat in the corner a few feet away from where Potter sat. Theo kicked him as he passed, and then bent down to sift through the bin. </p><p>“It’s all my fault,” Potter hissed under his breath. Even though his face was half-hidden behind wool, Theo could tell he was thoroughly miserable. </p><p>“I guessed as much,” Theo hissed back, pulling out a pair of threadbare earmuffs. “But what happened?” </p><p>“It’s stupid,” Potter muttered. </p><p>“Of course it is, you’re involved.” Theo pushed the earmuffs back into the bin, toppling a stack of old textbooks. “I assume he wasn’t really attacked?” </p><p>“No,” Potter confirmed. “But he thought that’d be believable. Or at least interesting enough to keep anyone from guessing the truth.” </p><p>“And the truth is...?” Theo pressed. He spotted a glove sandwiched between two textbooks and began excavating it. </p><p>Potter sighed. “It’s <em> stupid,” </em>he repeated. “It was just— I—” Theo turned back to smack him, but stopped short at the pure look of shame that met him. “I left a— a mark,” Potter finally admitted, and that was apparently all he had the ability to say before embarrassment overtook him. He smashed the heel of his palm against his face. </p><p>“And that landed him in the hospital wing?” Theo said, knowing where this was probably headed but wanting to hear Potter say it anyway.</p><p>“Listen, I was in a <em> hurry</em>,” Potter spat. “My pronunciation was off. It’s not like I opened up the first spellbook I saw and started waving my wand, I <em>know</em> how to cast Episkey on a bruise, I’m not a <em>third-year—”</em></p><p>“Yeah, all right, I'll see what I can do,” Theo said quickly, cutting Potter off before he started steaming out the ears. He made a mental note that Potter tended to go on the offense when he felt attacked, rather than clamming up to defend. He was a Gryffindor, so it tracked.</p><p>After finally extracting the sad-looking glove from between the textbooks, Theo left Potter to hide beneath his scarf once more. Thankfully, neither Blaise nor Pansy noticed when he rejoined their table, as they were both still bickering. </p><p>“—and besides, that’s insensitive,” Pansy was saying tartly. “Draco could have been attacked, and all you can talk about is Potter. If I didn’t know better, Blaise, I’d say <em> you’re </em>the one shagging Potter once a week.” </p><p>Theo had time to wonder if that was a rough estimate or if Pansy and Blaise had actually been keeping count, before Blaise launched into a tirade of insults. Pansy didn’t so much as flinch.</p><p>“All right, all right,” Professor Sprout said thickly, announcing her entrance from the doorway. “Enough chit-chatting, let’s get to work.”</p><p>Blaise, Pansy, and the rest of the classroom sat at attention. Theo took one last sad look at his own dragonhide glove, half-covered in dirt beneath the bench, before slipping on the spare. His forefinger poked out through the tip. </p><p>“Apologies for the tardiness,” Professor Sprout continued, bending down to lift a large pot of soil onto the teacher’s bench. “I was needed in the hospital wing.” </p><p>And as the room exploded into chatter, Theo listened to any last chance that he’d be able to survive this year catch fire, shrivel up, and die.</p><hr/><p>“Hey, Nott.” </p><p>Theo leaned back to let Finnigan reach above him. Finnigan grabbed a box of Fudge Flies from the top shelf. It looked like the last one in stock; he had to jump a little to reach them. </p><p>“Damn,” Finnigan muttered when he read the turquoise label. They were milk chocolate. “They’re always out once I get here,” he groaned. “The third-years clear this place out in about half an hour.” He looked at the box sadly. “The dark chocolate ones are really excellent, too.”</p><p>Theo stood on his tiptoes and squinted at the shelf. “I think there’s one in the back, but I can’t quite reach it.” He looked at Finnigan. “I could… lift you?”</p><p>Finnigan blinked. For a moment, Theo almost expected a punch. But then Finnigan shrugged. “Yeah, all right. Get your leg up, I’ll stand on your knee.” </p><p>Theo braced himself against the shelf, knee bent at a ninety-degree angle. Finnigan hopped up, grabbing the shelf for leverage. It wobbled dangerously, bottles of Shock-o-Choc clinking together. </p><p>“Careful,” Theo said, wincing. Finnigan’s heel was digging painfully into his thigh. </p><p>“Almost got it—” Finnigan grunted, “—yes!” </p><p>He leapt off Theo’s leg and brandished the royal-blue box in the air triumphantly. “Thanks, Nott.” He turned to the counter, rethought it, and circled back to Theo. “Hey,” he said, “by the way, what day did you put your money on?” </p><p>Theo quickly checked to make sure that neither Potter nor Draco were among the mass of students lining Honeydukes wall to wall. It was the last trip before Christmas, and everyone was buying presents for their families— or buying presents for themselves under the pretense of buying for their families. Theo had come to Honeydukes with the intention of finding something for his stepfather, but he wasn’t sure Ice Mice or exploding bonbons would travel well by owl.</p><p>When he was certain there was no sign of Draco or Potter in the shop, Theo turned back to Finnigan. </p><p>“End of June,” he said, trying his best to sound casual. “I think they’ll try to go the whole year, but end up having to tell someone before we’re out. It was a toss up whether they’d do it before or after exams, but I reckon after.” He smirked. “Stress relief, you know.” This was the same speech he’d given after asking to change his date, and it worked just as well on Finnigan as it had on Blaise.</p><p>“Huh,” Finnigan said, looking thoughtfully at his chocolates. “Dean and I were thinking of staying for Christmas, just in case something happens. You don’t think it’s likely?” </p><p>“I really can’t say,” Theo said, shaking his head. “You haven’t seen them in town, though, have you? I gave my equations to Draco to look at, but it’s been three days now and—”</p><p>“Oh, for the bitterroot balm?” Finnigan said, tearing his eyes off the box of Fudge Flies. “Yeah, that one’s a bastard. Dean made a good enough batch, though.” He laughed. “I always sit next to him, cause he takes the best notes.” He paused for a moment, looked at the box again, and then back at Theo. “If you want,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I could ask to borrow ‘em for you?”</p><p>“Er— yes,” Theo said, bewildered. “That would be great. Thank you.” </p><p>“‘Cor,” Finnigan said. He swept into the crowd, Fudge Flies tucked safely under his arm.</p><hr/><p>Christmas morning came, and Theo found himself almost alone in the common room with Thomas’s notes laid neatly above his textbook. The study table was empty for once, and the only other people in the room were keeping to themselves, thank <em> Merlin.  </em></p><p>Theo glanced, not for the first time, at the back of the chair by the fire. A pair of dramatic legs was once again hanging over the left armrest, but this time a shock of jet black hair poked out from the top, too. Apart from faint murmuring and the occasional low laugh, they weren’t disturbing the peace too much, so Theo didn’t mind having company. </p><p>He grabbed a profiterole, lemon cream this time instead of coconut. The moment Theo had emerged from the boy’s dormitory this morning, Morley had appeared out of thin air with a mountain of them, flavored with everything from coconut cream to lime curd to chocolate mousse. Theo had once again offered to send for a pair of elf-sized glasses, and Molrey had once again refused.</p><p>But even sugar and lemon couldn’t help make his damn equations balance. Thomas’s notes made sense in a way that the textbook didn’t, but not a single one of Theo’s example potions would work on paper.</p><p>Normally Theo would ask Blaise for help, but he’d gone home for the holidays along with the vast majority of the school. Finnigan and Thomas wound up staying as well, along with Pansy, Macmillan, and the Patil twins. Interestingly, Weasley and Granger had both gone home, leaving Potter alone. Well, not <em> alone, </em>but still.</p><p>From what Theo had overheard from the chair, it was the first time they hadn’t stayed at Hogwarts with him for Christmas. </p><p>Everything was different now. They didn’t need to rely on each other so closely anymore. School politics were becoming less and less important. Weasley and Granger had their own lives now, independent of Potter. And Potter had his, independent of them— as evidenced by the chair.</p><p>Meanwhile, Theo was perfectly content to live without Blaise for a week. It was a damn blessing not to have Blaise breathing down his neck every minute. Once he’d caught Theo talking to Potter in an empty classroom, and Theo had tried to convince him they’d been discussing the last Quidditch match and that he’d been asking Potter for flying tips. The excuse had barely flown, as Theo hadn’t even come to a Quidditch match since the start of term, and Blaise knew it. </p><p>Potter laughed behind the chair, and Theo saw the tuft of hair duck out of sight for a moment. </p><p>He smiled. </p><p>The ever-present question of <em> why </em>he was doing this swam back into his mind. He swatted it away. It wasn’t shameful to want something good for his friend, was it? Of course, there was also the threat of the combined wrath of Blaise, Draco, and Potter if he cocked everything up, but he tried to think he was mainly doing this for Draco’s benefit. </p><p>Potter’s benefit too, he supposed. Not that he particularly cared about Potter’s well-being. Everyone worshipped him. It was hard to feel much pity for his day-to-day life. </p><p>Unless Theo thought back to the conversation he’d overhead in the kitchens.</p><p>Bugger, he kept getting distracted. Theo glared at the back of the chair, as if either of them would feel his disapproval and stop being so pity-able in reply. Nothing happened, of course, and Theo sighed, turning back to Thomas’s notes. </p><p>The common room door opened.</p><p>Two people sucked in air very sharply from behind the chair, and Theo nearly fell off the back of his stool as Pansy walked in, holding an armful of Christmas crackers.</p><p>“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said as she saw Theo. “I tried to check the library, but Pince wouldn’t let me in with these.” She gestured with the crackers, scowling.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Theo sensed movement— the legs had tucked themselves back behind the cushions. Pansy followed his line of sight, and Theo’s heart skipped. </p><p>“What an old cow,” he said quickly, forcing a laugh to draw her attention. Pansy snorted, dumping the crackers onto the table. </p><p>“What’s all this?” she said, looking down at Thomas’s notes. “Why are you studying? It’s Christmas.” She reached for a profiterole. Theo smacked her hand away. </p><p>“I’ve got to finish up with these so I can give them back to Finnigan, so <em> he </em>can give them back to Thomas,” he explained.</p><p>More movement from the chair. Instead of staying put like anyone with a lick of sense would do, Draco and Potter had decided to make a stealthy escape. Theo curled his fingers into a fist inside his robe pocket to calm himself as Potter met his eye and <em> winked.  </em></p><p>Pansy, meanwhile, was still looking at the table. “How’d you end up with Thomas’s notes?” </p><p>“Finnigan offered,” Theo said, shrugging. “They’re really thorough. Most of it’s just the textbook, but worded in a way that you can actually understand<em>. </em>And look here,” he said, pointing to distract Pansy from the fact that Draco was standing two feet behind her. "Slughorn’s lectures, word-for-word. He must have a dictating quill, I swear, I don’t know how he does it.”</p><p>“Whoa.” Pansy sat down, peering over Thomas’s almost-neat scrawl. “Wait, what does he mean, <em> Golpalott’s fifth law?" </em>She pointed at a complicated looking diagram in the corner. “I thought there were only four.”</p><p>Theo squinted. “Huh,” he said. “Well, that would explain why I’ve been using antidote structures for all of my potions. I thought that was the <em> third.” </em></p><p>“Fuck,” Pansy muttered.</p><p>Looking over her shoulder, Theo saw Potter put his hand on the door handle. He prepared to let out a sigh of relief once the two of them had gone—</p><p>The door opened again, this time much more violently. Finnigan, Thomas, and Macmillan burst in with a roar of laughter, completely ignorant to the two people they’d just squished behind the door. </p><p>“Oh, perfect, we can just ask him,” Pansy said, and turned. The door blocked Potter and Draco from view, but only barely. If it stayed open much longer, someone was bound to notice them.</p><p>“Oi!” Theo called loudly, and the trio of boys looked over, still laughing under their breath. “Thomas, thanks for letting me use your notes, but—” </p><p>“I told you,” Thomas said, prodding Finnigan in the side. “I <em> told </em>you he’d need help.” </p><p>“Desperately,” Theo said, and to his immense relief both Thomas and Finnigan began to walk towards the table. Macmillan, however, lagged behind. </p><p>“Ugh,” he said, spying Theo and Pansy. He cleared his throat. “It’s too hot in here. I’m waiting outside, yeah? When you’re done with that lot,” he nodded at Theo and Pansy, “grab your brooms and let’s get to the field before it gets dark.” </p><p>“Sure thing,” Thomas said, and Macmillan left. He had no idea that he’d just made Theo’s job a lot harder than it had to be, so Theo tried not to let himself get too angry. But his presence outside the common room door meant there was nowhere for Draco and Potter to go, unless they managed to sneak into the boy’s dormitory unnoticed.</p><p>“Dean, I’ll go fetch the brooms,” Finnigan said, and bounded up to the dormitory rooms. <em> Of course, </em>Theo thought dully.</p><p>The common room door finally closed, revealing a horrified Potter and Draco. All hopes of playing off like they’d just been working or loitering separately were gone when Theo saw their faces clearly. Draco’s hair was askew, his tie gone and his collar crumpled. Meanwhile, Potter was sporting swollen lips and flushed cheeks, neither of which could be explained away by anything other than Draco’s presence beside him.</p><p>Potter watched forlornly as Finnigan shut the door to the dormitory behind him, sealing away their last chance of escape. Right. It was down to Theo. All he had to do was get Thomas to explain what in Merlin’s name <em> Golpalott’s fifth law </em>was, and they’d all leave. </p><p>“Okay,” he said, and brushed Pansy’s crackers off Thomas’s notes and onto the floor. “So—” </p><p>“Ooh, profiteroles,” Thomas said suddenly. “Mind if I grab one? You’ve got enough to feed the castle.” </p><p>Theo swallowed. “Sure,” he said, with great effort. Behind Thomas and Pansy, Potter and Draco looked at him desperately. He jerked his head towards the chair by the fire. <em> Get behind something, stupid! </em>Potter nodded silently and they both began to creep sideways, not taking their eyes off of Theo. </p><p>“So what exactly don’t you understand?” Thomas asked, licking strawberry cream off his thumb.</p><p>“This,” Theo said, pointing to the diagram in the corner. “I don’t remember learning about a fifth law.” </p><p>“Oh,” Thomas said, “no, yeah, we haven’t covered it yet. It just makes it easier to calculate ingredient ratios for different levels of effect intensity instead of having to do it manually.” He sighed. “Personally, I think it’s stupid to make us ‘learn the theory’,” he said, making air quotes, “before we get to use the actual formula. You get the same result in the end anyway, right?” </p><p>“Right,” Theo said. Trying to comprehend what Thomas was saying with the constant distraction of Potter and Draco trying to hide themselves just over Thomas’s shoulder was extremely challenging. They’d finally made it to the chair, but were now having a silent argument over who would get to sit in the damn thing, and who would sit in the other’s lap.</p><p>“Oh, here’s your problem,” Thomas said, pointing to Theo’s diagram. “You’ve been using the third law.” </p><p>“I <em> know,” </em>Theo said through gritted teeth. Potter was making a complicated gesture with his hands in an effort to convince Draco to let him sit on the chair first. Draco, who had his arms folded, didn’t look convinced. </p><p>“So, wait, how far ahead is the fifth law?” Pansy asked, now grabbing Theo’s textbook. She flipped through it, frowning. </p><p>“Somewhere in the six hundreds,” Thomas said, shrugging. “I did some work ahead when Slughorn had us reviewing.”</p><p>“Okay,” Theo said, “so all I have to do is find the page for Golpalott’s fifth law, follow that, and—” </p><p>The boy’s dormitory door burst open again and Finnigan emerged with two broomsticks under his arm. Potter and Draco scrambled to get on the chair where they’d be out of sight, shoving it about two inches forward with a loud <em> honk. </em></p><p>Finnigan frowned. “What the—?”</p><p>“Wow!” Theo blurted out, “where— did you get those brooms?” </p><p>Finnigan mercifully took his eyes off the chair and looked down at the brooms under his arm. “Er. From the dorm?” </p><p>“No, I mean,” Theo said, swallowing thickly. Finnigan, Thomas, and Pansy were all looking at him now, which he supposed was rather the point, but Merlin’s <em>pants</em> it wasn’t pleasant. “I mean, where did you buy them? They look— nice.” </p><p>Finnigan looked at the brooms again, then back up. “Uh,” he said. “Quality Quidditch, I think? What d’you think, Dean, we get these fourth year or fifth?” </p><p>“Fifth,” Thomas said, “I think. No, it must have been fourth, I don’t think Umbridge allowed us brooms if we weren’t on the team.” </p><p>“No, she did for us,” Pansy said. Thomas and Finnigan looked at one another for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Right,” Pansy muttered, wincing.</p><p>“Anyway,” Finnigan said, in a clear attempt to change the subject, “keep on over there, I’ll kip on the chair until you’re done.” </p><p>“We’re done!” Theo said quickly. </p><p>Pansy frowned. “But what about Golpalott’s fifth—” </p><p>“You heard him, it’s in the six hundreds somewhere,” Theo snapped. “It can’t be that hard to figure out. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” </p><p>“But—”</p><p>“I’ve got time,” Thomas insisted. “Really. I like tutoring.”</p><p>“We can handle it,” Theo said. He stacked Thomas’s notes into a messy pile and offered them out. “Thank you for your help. It’s very appreciated. We’re fine now.” </p><p>“Er,” Thomas said, taking the notes back. “You can keep those for a while if you like, it’s no trouble—” </p><p>Finnigan took another step towards the chair by the fire. </p><p>Theo grabbed the profiteroles. “Do you want these?” he said, holding them out. Thomas’s eyes widened. “I’ve had enough,” Theo said, heart twisting with every word. “I think you should take them.” </p><p>Thomas took the plate without hesitation, no doubt enamored by the smell of chocolate cream, lemon curd, and powdered sugar. “Sure,” he said. “Wow, Nott, thanks.” He grinned down at the plate. “Seamus, shall we?” </p><p>“Yeah, all right,” Finnigan said, heading for the door now. “Ernie’s right, we should get out now if we want to catch the sun.”</p><p>Thomas followed him, and they left the common room, taking with them the plate of profiteroles, the stack of notes, and Theo’s hopes and dreams. Pansy watched them go, and Theo saw the chair by the fire quiver in fear.</p><p>“Pansy,” he said, “here, let’s do a cracker. They fell under the table, could you fetch one?” </p><p>Pansy hesitated, but eventually knelt down to reach one of the crackers. The moment she was underneath the table, Potter and Draco scampered in opposite directions: Draco for the boy’s dorms, and Potter for the door that led to the hallway.</p><p>Theo grabbed a cracker from the ground and, just as both of the doors were about to close, tugged it. It exploded, showering him in blue smoke and fine orange sparks. Pansy shrieked, hitting her head on the table before scrambling back on her feet. Both doors were shut by the time she stood up. </p><p>“Theo, what is <em> wrong with you?” </em>she demanded. “What was that about?” </p><p>“Yes,” Draco drawled, emerging from the boy’s dorms looking for all the world like he’d just spent an hour dressing himself to perfection, “I agree. What on earth was that racket— oh.” He looked at the mess of crackers under the table and sparks floating overhead. “Well,” he said stuffily. “I’m going to the library. Perhaps I’ll find some peace and quiet there.” </p><p>Oh, Draco wasn’t looking for peace or quiet, and Theo so desperately wanted to say so. </p><p>With a disdainful sniff at the blue smoke, Draco strode to the common room door and yanked it open, hopping out with practiced flair. Theo threw him a two-fingered salute, knowing full well it would go unappreciated. </p><p>Pansy’s eyes lit up. “Hold on,” she said, “I bet Potter’s in there.” Abandoning the crackers, she sprinted to the door and hauled it open, but emerged a minute later looking sullen. “Nope. Empty.”</p><p>“Bad luck,” Theo said, and collapsed into the chair by the fire.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In Which Theo's Problems Multiply</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Christmas, both Draco and Potter seemed to have learned their lesson. They were remarkably discreet about meeting up for the next several weeks, hardly said a word to one another in passing, and kept their distance so thoroughly that Theo wondered if they’d heard he’d had to sacrifice his Christmas profiteroles and were feeling guilty.</p>
<p>January marked the beginning of their second term, and with it came Golpalott’s fifth law in full force. Slughorn, after spending almost their entire first term reviewing sixth-year material, had then needed to condense the seventh-year material into the remaining two terms. Granger eventually conceded that Thomas could lead the study group for their potions assignments, which Thomas had boasted about for exactly one week before getting eight requests for copies of his notes. </p>
<p>This evening, they were all trying to calculate the ingredients needed for three separate Calming Draughts: one that would render the drinker slightly lightheaded, one to give the drinker a proper sense of calm, and one that was strong enough to put the drinker straight to sleep. Theo had figured out the first two, but was now resolutely stuck on the third. </p>
<p>He glanced across the table at Macmillan’s page, which was covered with frustrated scribbles. Beside Macmillan sat Finnigan, who had his quill in his mouth. Blaise, who was on Theo’s right, couldn’t seem to figure out how to under-brew his potion properly, and Pansy had given up on the Calming Drought problem entirely and was working on the formula for a Wiggenweld Potion instead. On the far right end of the table, Granger was giving quiet instructions to Weasley, who kept getting distracted and tucking locks of her hair behind her ear as she spoke. And on the far left, Draco was drawing a careful diagram on his parchment. Theo squinted to see properly— yes, he was shading the illustrations of his ingredients. <em> Ponce. </em></p>
<p>Potter bustled in through the door, drawing nearly everyone’s attention as usual. But instead of giving the study group a wide berth, this time he made a beeline straight for it. Theo glanced nervously at Draco, but Draco hadn’t even looked up. He marked a line on his parchment with a little extra vigor, jawline snapping into focus as he clenched it.</p>
<p>“Nott,” Potter said, snapping Theo’s attention away from Draco. “You’re good with brooms, right?” </p>
<p>Theo stared. Potter raised an eyebrow. <em> Play along.  </em></p>
<p>“Y...es,” Theo said slowly. Beside him, Blaise stopped writing. “Why do you ask?” </p>
<p>“I think something’s wrong with my Firebolt,” Potter said. “I was wondering if you could come give it a look.” </p>
<p>“Ooh,” Pansy cooed, “Potter wants you to go check out his <em> broomstick.” </em>She snickered, but then stopped short with a little gasp and bent to scribble something down. Baise turned back to his potions work, glancing at Pansy’s parchment between every word he wrote.</p>
<p>Theo waited, but neither of them chipped in with a helpful <em> we’re busy, please go away. </em>“All right,” he said at last, extracting himself from the study table. His leg caught between the table and his chair, and with a grunt he tugged it free, stumbling awkwardly before catching his balance.</p>
<p>Weasley looked up. “If your broom’s having trouble, you should talk to Ginny,” he said, his normal voice ungodly loud after hours of silent studying. “She knows loads about broom care.” </p>
<p>“It’s late,” Potter said, and his smile was extremely forced. Theo tried to imagine how he’d have fared if he’d been placed in Slytherin, and couldn’t imagine him doing well. “I don’t want to bother her.” </p>
<p>Weasley frowned. “Mate, it’s only half past seven. Why—”</p>
<p>“I’ll help,” Theo said quickly. “If it’s something small, I can probably figure it out. If I can’t, though, we should probably go to—” He broke off awkwardly, already having forgotten the name of Weasley’s suggestion.</p>
<p>“Good plan,” Potter said, and dragged him up into the boys' dormitory.</p><hr/>
<p>The eighth-year dorms had been built in the span of about a month.</p>
<p>The South Tower itself was a bit to the south of the Great Hall, and up several flights of stairs. From the windows they could see the southern end of the lake, lined with trees, and on the horizon they could just make out the faint outline of Hogsmeade buildings, too far away to identify by name. </p>
<p>Before housing them, the South Tower had been home to two classrooms in the previous years, for occasional lessons that required a little extra elbow room. For their eighth year, however, the entire tower had been refitted. The main hallway had squeezed itself into a shape more befitting a lounge— with a fireplace added in for good measure— and the two classrooms had been turned into dormitories, both girls’ and boys’. </p>
<p>Six of the beds in the boy’s dormitory were the same make as the rest of the school’s, a neat four-poster with hanging curtains, but the rest had been built by hand using wood from the forest. They were plenty comfortable, even if the wood was knotted and cracked, and the sheets were a dull grey rather than the house colors that looked frankly garish when presented side-by-side. The only problem was that there were about fifteen beds altogether. The dormitory room had ample room to fit them all, but it had been a fairly large adjustment to sleep with three times as many people as they’d been accustomed to for the last seven years. </p>
<p>Everyone had to keep their things relatively tidy, or else an amalgamation of mess would form, clothes and debris so thoroughly mixed together that it was impossible to tell whose garbage was whose. Some of them snored, some tossed and turned, and some did last-minute homework by wandlight every Thursday evening. </p>
<p>Not to mention it was <em> impossible </em>to know that fourteen people were asleep at once rather than four, if you wanted privacy.</p>
<p>“Please don’t pull out your broomstick,” Theo said the moment he and Potter were alone. “Or your— anything else. I’m really not prepared for either.”</p>
<p>“Hush up,” Potter said, folding his arms and leaning back on one of the four-posters. “I just wanted to ask you about Draco.” </p>
<p>Here it was. They’d nearly gone a whole month without stirring up trouble, and now—</p>
<p>“He likes sweets, doesn’t he?”</p>
<p>Theo stared. Potter was biting his lip expectantly. “You can’t be serious.” </p>
<p>“It’s almost February. I’m running out of ideas,” Potter said in a rush, tugging at his hair. It was getting long enough that he could almost tie it back. “He’s got a mansion at home, obviously he doesn’t <em> need </em>anything. So I thought sweets would be all right, but I don’t know what he likes. I don’t just want to waltz into Honeydukes and buy the first thing I see. That’s not very meaningful. I think he’d be offended.” </p>
<p>“I think you’re overthinking this,” Theo said weakly. “It’s not like he’s going to dump you if you get him the wrong kind of chocolate.”</p>
<p>“He might,” Potter said stubbornly. “He does a lot of things that don’t make sense.”</p>
<p>Sensing a deeper issue, Theo took a deep breath. “Well,” he said, “maybe instead of trying to figure out what he likes, you should think of something meaningful to both of you. So it’s about the thought, instead of the actual gift.” </p>
<p>Potter snorted. “Sure,” he said, “yeah, that’ll go well.” </p>
<p>Theo counted to ten very deliberately in his head, and then let out a breath. It made so much sense. This was why there hadn’t been an incident. This was why they’d been respectfully distant. This was why Theo had had a normal life for nearly a month. </p>
<p>“You’ve had a row,” he said. </p>
<p>“It was not a <em> row,” </em>Potter grumbled. “It was— a disagreement.” </p>
<p>“That turned into a row,” Theo said. “Come on, out with it.” Merlin, had they been arguing for a month straight? “Does this have anything to do with Christmas? Did I—”</p>
<p>“No!” Potter shook his head, suddenly frantic. “No, it’s nothing to do with you. Christmas was—” He broke off, smiling. Theo waited for him to stop. Once Potter’s cheeks lost their flush, he folded his arms.  “After all that, he asked me to come to his mother’s to celebrate the new year. I said I didn’t think that was a good idea.” </p>
<p>“Ouch,” Theo said automatically. </p>
<p>“Well, it’s not!” Potter folded his arms. “Draco’s mother worries about him enough. She doesn’t need this tacked on, too. And the Malfoy Manor is still undergoing inspection. If anyone saw me there with him, meeting his mother—”</p>
<p>“Are you just afraid of what she’ll think of you?”</p>
<p>“I’m not— afraid—” Potter let out a sharp breath, staring out the window at the lake. “It’s just… There are a lot of possibilities. Too many chances for things to go wrong. I don’t like it.” </p>
<p>“And I’m assuming you haven’t told him any of this,” Theo said.</p>
<p>“Of course not. He’d call me a coward.” </p>
<p>“You don’t know that for sure.” </p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” Potter snapped. “He’ll call me a coward for not wanting to say anything, to his mother, to anyone else, to—”</p>
<p>“Hold on,” Theo said, holding a hand up, “I thought you two had <em> agreed </em>to keep this quiet until his trial at the end of the year.”</p>
<p>“Barely,” Potter said icily. “He said it was a <em> ridiculous idea, Harry, I’d expect better even from Weasley.” </em> He spoke the last few words in an uncanny impersonation of Draco’s spiteful drawl.</p>
<p>“Well, I can believe that much.” Theo winced. He’d never known Draco to be particularly sensitive when it came to expressing his opinion. “What was his reasoning, though? I assume he tried to pitch an argument for coming clean.”</p>
<p>Potter shrugged. “I don’t remember, exactly. Something about how I thought I was the only reason he was given such a lenient parole, and how I cared about my sway at the Ministry more than—” He blinked. “Oh.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Theo said. “That sounds pretty bad.”</p>
<p>“And now I won’t meet with Narcissa because I’m worried it’ll garner bad <em> press,” </em>Potter moaned. “I’m a tosser, aren’t I?” </p>
<p>“A bit,” Theo said, “but it’s not like that’s <em> all </em>you’re concerned about.” He sighed. “Look, you’ve got a right to be worried, but I really don’t think visiting his mother would have been that risky. Especially if it was over a holiday. Don’t you think most of the Ministry would be taking a break?”</p>
<p>Potter chewed his lip. “I suppose,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point.” He sighed. “I feel like an arse.”</p>
<p>“Well, Draco’s the biggest arse in our year,” Theo said. “You suit each other.”</p>
<p>Potter snorted. “Right,” he said, “that settles it.” He pounded a decisive fist into his open palm. “You were right about the holiday thing. We’ll see his mother for Valentine’s.” And he set off for the door, footsteps heavy with purpose.</p>
<p>“But— <em> we </em>don’t get time off for that,” Theo said. “Won’t everyone notice you’ll be gone together?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you can think of something!” Potter called over his shoulder, and tugged the dormitory door shut behind him with renewed vigor. </p>
<p>Theo stared at the door for a full ten seconds, trying to figure out how he’d turned into a professional relationship counselor in the span of three months. When he came up empty, he rubbed a palm over his face, groaning. </p>
<p>He waited for a few minutes in the dormitory room, pacing between the beds and wondering what in Merlin’s name he was going to tell Blaise and Pansy. They both knew perfectly well that Theo knew next to nothing about broom care, and this wasn’t the first time Theo had been caught talking to Potter alone. Blaise had been suspicious for weeks, and Theo was running out of ideas. </p>
<p>He thought back to what Draco had said, back when he’d caught Theo eavesdropping in the kitchens: <em> let him assume you have your reasoning, he’ll come up with an excuse on his own. </em></p>
<p>It was the only plan he had, and it was going to have to work. </p>
<p>Theo took one last look at the empty dormitory behind him before pushing the door open and rejoining the common room. Potter was nowhere to be seen. Hardly anyone looked up as Theo joined the table, but Draco arched an eyebrow at him before turning back down to his studies. Pansy cleared her throat when Theo sat down, and Blaise slid a folded slip of parchment in front of him. </p>
<p><em> What are you doing? </em>it read. </p>
<p>Theo hastily scribbled back, <em> none of your business.  </em></p>
<p>Pansy made a small noise beside him and shoved her own crumpled scrap of parchment across the table. Theo un-crumpled it. <em> Are you trying to pull Potter? </em></p>
<p>Theo’s thumb twitched, and the parchment split in two. Beside him, Blaise sucked in a breath. </p>
<p>“I am <em> not—” </em>Theo said under his breath, but Pansy smacked his arm.</p>
<p>“You want to, though,” Blaise muttered. From down the table, Granger shushed them. </p>
<p><em> “We are not discussing this,” </em>Theo hissed.</p>
<p>Pansy squealed beside him, positively quivering. Theo closed his eyes, willing someone to spill their ink bottle all over the table, praying that someone would fall off their stool and pants themselves in the process, anything to take the attention off of himself and his supposed infatuation with Potter. </p>
<p><em> He’ll come up with an excuse on his own. </em>Blaise couldn’t resist being right about something, so if Theo pretended his guess had been correct, Blaise would swallow the bait without a second thought. </p>
<p>He took a deep breath. </p>
<p>“It’s none of your business,” he muttered. “But I doubt he’d be interested in me, anyway,” he added sullenly.</p>
<p>Pansy patted his shoulder comfortingly. </p>
<p>Blaise, however, just tutted, before turning back to his parchment. “You could have just said so.”</p>
<p>“What, and have you two sniggering behind my back every time I left the room?” Theo huffed. “Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>Granger shushed them again. </p>
<p>“Theo, we wouldn’t,” Pansy simpered. </p>
<p>It was clearly a lie, and this provided Theo with an acceptable exit strategy. He extracted himself from the table, yanking his leg out by force when it got caught again. Once he was free, he made a show of shoving his parchment and books roughly into his bag, tucking it to his chest, and stalking out of the common room, ignoring Pansy’s last call of his name— and Granger’s answering shush.</p>
<p>Theo stomped all the way down to the stairwell before realizing he needed to decide where to go. He settled on the kitchens, because he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t run into anything untoward there, this time.</p>
<p>Molrey was nowhere to be found when he arrived, and the elves that greeted Theo in his stead presented him with a plate of hand pies. Theo accepted them politely, and set them on top of his bookbag. He sat beside it and rested his head on his fists, thinking hard. </p>
<p>Why was he <em> doing </em>this? </p>
<p>Sure, he’d started out with the fool-hearted goal of helping someone in need— Draco, namely, with Potter as a distant second. And now everything had spiraled out of control. He was trapped between Blaise, Pansy, Potter, and Draco. On top of that, if anything happened to Draco he’d have Potter to face for it, and if anything happened to Potter, he’d have the full force of Granger and Weasley after him— not to mention Draco’s wrath stacked on top for good measure. </p>
<p>Theo took a sorrowful bite out of one of the pies. It was strawberry rhubarb. </p>
<p>And all at once, he knew what to do. </p><hr/>
<p>First, he had to wait until February’s truly loathsome holiday had passed. </p>
<p>When the subject inevitably came up that Draco spontaneously had to visit his mother at the exact same time that Potter was needed to discuss a legal issue regarding his house— over <em> Valentine’s day </em>— Theo reiterated the point that their dual absences weren’t definitive proof of anything. Finnigan and Thomas scoured Hogsmeade, determined to catch them in Madam Puddifoot’s or somewhere equally mortifying, but came back empty, much to everyone’s dismay.</p>
<p>Draco returned three days later and regaled anyone who asked about how his mother was growing weak with grief over the inevitable loss of his father, and had simply needed someone to care for her for a few days. Potter showed up a day later. Theo could only hope that he’d come up with a more believable story, since Draco had depended wholly on his listeners being too sympathetic and awkward to ask any questions.</p>
<p>Two days later, the storm had passed, and Theo could make his move.</p>
<p>“Morning,” he said cheerfully, sitting down beside Draco. He helped himself to a plate of sausages and toast, taking care to splash a little bit of juice from the sausage plate onto Draco’s neat stack of sugar-coated pancakes. Draco flinched, but made no comment. </p>
<p>“Hey, Theo,” Pansy said. “You’re in a good mood.” She raised an eyebrow. “Anything you want to tell us?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Theo said, not bothered in the slightest by the jibe. Pansy had taken to patting him pityingly on the arm whenever she saw him. It had been irritating for the first few days, but Theo was starting to appreciate it a little. He didn’t personally know what it was like to pine after a forbidden lover, but he imagined Valentine’s day wouldn’t have been pleasant if he was. He began cutting into his sausages. “Draco,” he said, spearing one with his fork. “Get me some coffee, won’t you?”</p>
<p>Draco, who had been trying to carve out the tainted spot from his stack of pancakes, either hadn’t heard the request, or chose to ignore it. Theo was prepared for this. </p>
<p>“By the way,” he said, “I was looking for you yesterday.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Draco said, successfully cutting out the offending splotch and poking it off his plate onto the table. </p>
<p>“Mm.” Theo stuffed the forkful of sausage into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “I wanted to ask you about your essay. You said you were going to the library. But when I checked, I couldn’t find you.” </p>
<p>It hadn’t been the most graceful of exits. He and Potter had been gently kicking one another under the common room table one afternoon, until Draco had had enough and announced he was moving to the library, ears pink. Potter left not five minutes after, claiming he needed the bathroom. Neither returned for half an hour, and when Theo had left to escape Thomas’s latest Golpalott lecture he’d caught them rushing back in the seventh-floor corridor. Draco hadn’t appreciated getting a reminder that showing up together after a thirty-minute absence wasn’t wise.</p>
<p>Draco’s hand, which was poised over the sugar bowl, froze, his fingers halfway around the spoon. “I,” he said, “left. Couldn’t find what I was looking for.” </p>
<p>“Ah,” Theo said, “that makes sense. Guess I should have run after you a bit faster, eh?” He laughed. Draco didn’t move his hand. “I like my coffee with sugar and cream,” Theo added helpfully. </p><hr/>
<p>Draco carried Theo’s bookbag to Charms, offered Theo a spare quill in Arithmancy, and even fetched Theo’s owl for him between classes when Theo mentioned he’d been thinking about sending a letter to his parents, and finally, at dinner—</p>
<p>“Draco,” Theo said, for the umpteenth time that day. Draco stiffened beside him. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he said, through a jaw locked so tight that Theo wondered what would happen if he muttered <em> Alohomora </em>under his breath. </p>
<p>“Pass the gravy,” Theo said. Draco grabbed the pitcher and set it down hard in front of Theo’s plate. Gravy sloshed out the sides, dripping down onto the table. “Thanks,” Theo said, not touching it.</p>
<p>“Don’t mention it,” Draco growled. </p>
<p>Pansy prodded at her steak and kidney pie, looking at Draco. She seemed to want to say something. Theo caught her eye and shook his head, looking at Draco pointedly. <em> He’s in a mood. </em>Pansy nodded, going back to her dinner. </p>
<p>Blaise, however, wasn’t so timid. He grabbed the gravy for himself. “How was Muggle Studies today?” he asked, and Theo wanted to kiss him. Metaphorically. </p>
<p>“Fine,” Draco said.</p>
<p>“Really?” Blaise poured a hefty pool of gravy down beside his potatoes. “I thought you might’ve missed it.”</p>
<p>Draco severed one of his jacket potatoes in twain. “No.” </p>
<p>“Because you followed us all the way to Charms,” Blaise continued, now stirring gravy into his mashed potatoes like an animal. “Isn’t Muggle studies on the other side of the castle?” </p>
<p>Theo bit the inside of his cheek, taking a spoonful of potatoes for himself. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Draco said. </p>
<p>Blaise frowned. Theo felt a little stab of pity. “Draco was doing me a favor,” he supplied helpfully.</p>
<p>“Why?” Blaise asked, looking blankly between Theo and Draco. </p>
<p>Theo shrugged. “I suppose he just felt charitable.” </p>
<p>“Right,” Draco said, standing. He grabbed Theo’s arm. “Let’s go. Now.” </p>
<p>Theo gave Blaise and Pansy a <em> what can you do </em>look and followed Draco out of the hall, trying his absolute best not to laugh. Across the hall, he saw Potter look up, see them, and drop his fork. </p>
<p>Ten minutes later they were all in the room that didn’t always exist— it had a name, but Theo could never remember what it was. The room had manifested as a windowless cavern, stacked high with books, trinkets, cloths, and countless tchotchkes. When they’d stepped in, Draco had frozen for a moment before continuing inside. </p>
<p>Potter hadn’t batted an eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told Draco now, folding his arms. Theo, who was standing between them, stayed silent.</p>
<p>“Harry,” Draco said, exasperated. “He’s a Slytherin, what did you honestly expect when you told him to help? That he’d be kind out of the goodness of his heart?” </p>
<p>“Well,” Potter said. <em> “You’re </em>a Slytherin, and you’re being nice to me.” </p>
<p>“Being nice to you directly benefits me,” Draco said, “because I happen to like getting a leg over you.” Potter flushed, but to his credit, he didn’t back down. Draco clenched his fist and let it go slack again. “Your habit of believing the best in people is going to get you killed one day,” he muttered. “I’m surprised it hasn’t already.”</p>
<p>“It’s saved my life a fair few times,” Potter said reproachfully.</p>
<p>“Don’t distract from the matter at hand,” Draco said, pointing to Theo. “He’s blackmailing us. This is <em> your </em>fault.”</p>
<p>“How is this my fault?” </p>
<p>“It was your stupid idea to go along with their stupid bet in the first place. None of this would be happening if you’d just—”</p>
<p>“If I’d just what?” Potter cut in, taking a step forward. Draco was close to crossing an invisible line; he might’ve already. “If I’d <em> what, </em>Draco?” </p>
<p>“If you’re going to bring this up again, then there’s no point in talking,” Draco said calmly, though Theo watched him shove his hands in his pockets to keep them from trembling. </p>
<p>“No,” Potter said, “I want to hear it. What would you rather I do? Tell the school? Send you a Howler at lunch?”</p>
<p>Draco bit his tongue, glaring at Potter. Theo was instantly reminded of their earlier years, watching the two of them face off when their biggest problems were who had booked the Quidditch pitch for the afternoon. He supposed he should have seen their <em> thing </em>coming from miles away. They’d always flourished in each other’s company, even if they hadn’t realized it at first.</p>
<p>“I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” Potter said, folding his arms. “By all means, then, let’s just cart you off to the Ministry tonight.”</p>
<p>“This has nothing to do with the Ministry and you know it,” Draco said. Despite what looked like his best efforts, his voice wavered.</p>
<p>“This has everything to do with the Ministry, Draco. Why do you think I’m doing <em> this </em>?” Potter gestured at Theo without looking at him. “I’m not going to just throw your freedom away because you want to—”</p>
<p>“My freedom,” Draco said icily, “doesn’t depend on <em> you.”  </em></p>
<p>Ah, there was the line.</p>
<p>Potter’s jaw clamped shut. He spun on his heel and stalked away without another word, though the dramatic exit was slightly ruined when he had to clamber out of the hole in the wall. Once he was out of sight, Draco began to rub his eyes in frustration.</p>
<p>Theo sighed. “I take it the visit in February didn’t go well?” </p>
<p>Draco paled beyond the limits of human complexion. “He told you about that?” </p>
<p>Theo shrugged. “Who else would he tell?” </p>
<p>Draco sighed. “It went fine,” he said. “At first. Mother was surprised, of course, but I think she took it well once we explained.”</p>
<p>“And then?”</p>
<p>“And then a Ministry official showed up for another random inspection just after midnight,” Draco muttered. “Something to do with the wardrobe in the basement. They thought it was a magical artifact that needed to be confiscated, because there was a cabinet in my initial report, and—” He broke off, looking away. “Anyway,” he said after a moment’s pause, “if it weren’t for Harry’s cloak, I’m not sure what would have happened.” </p>
<p>“So he was right?” Theo said without thinking. It was like setting off a bomb. Draco’s cheeks went scarlet and his jawbone nearly popped out of his chin.</p>
<p>“He was—” Draco stopped himself from saying something, took a breath, and continued with stiff, forced calm. “He was thinking practically. Perhaps more so than I could admit at the time.” </p>
<p>“Draco,” Theo said, trying to keep his voice steady. It was very difficult. “What exactly would happen if you lost your case?” </p>
<p>“I’m not going to lose my case,” Draco muttered. </p>
<p>“I’m not saying that. I’m asking what would happen if you didn’t.”</p>
<p>Draco huffed. “They’d throw me in Azkaban for a while. I’d get a reduced sentence because of my age and the circumstances around my involvement. Probably five years. And then they’d let me go.” </p>
<p>“And how long has your father been in Azkaban?” Theo asked. </p>
<p>Draco didn’t meet his eyes. “What’s your point?” </p>
<p>“You said he was going mad in there, right?” Theo pressed. “Draco, it hasn’t even been a year yet. You said he’s probably going to die.” </p>
<p>“That’s different. Father is weak, and a coward. He has nothing left to live for, save for me.” He snorted. “Not that I matter terribly to him at the moment.” He gave Theo a sad, resigned smile. “If he knew about this, I doubt I’d matter at all.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Theo said, ignoring the bait. “Then consider things from Potter’s point of view. There’s a chance you’ll be sent to prison, and from what he’s heard, an Azkaban sentence might mean death.” </p>
<p>Draco scoffed. “Plenty of people survive Azkaban, honestly, were any of you paying attention in fifth-year—”</p>
<p>“Draco, he’s <em> scared,” </em> Theo snapped, temper getting the better of him. “Because he <em> cares </em>about you, for some stupid reason that I’m starting to believe I’ll never understand.” </p>
<p>“He doesn’t have to be,” Draco said tersely. “I’ll be fine—”</p>
<p>“That’s not the point,” Theo said. “And if you can’t wrap your thick skull around that, maybe you’d be better off spending time with Greg. D’you think he and your father are chums, these days?” </p>
<p>“How dare you,” Draco seethed. “How dare you bring him up—” </p>
<p>Satisfied, Theo turned on his heel and made for the door. </p>
<p>Maybe now Draco would take a step back and actually <em> think </em>about the situation for once. Weasley really had been right, Theo thought, as he crawled out of the awkwardly-shaped hole in the wall that led to the outer corridor. Draco was a proper git.</p>
<p>Potter was waiting in the corridor. His expression sank when he saw Theo emerge instead of Draco, and he looked at the place in the wall where the doorway had been mere moments ago. Draco had evidently removed the outer door once Theo had left. Potter looked to Theo expectantly. </p>
<p>“No,” Theo said, “he needs some time.” </p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Trust me,” Theo said, trying to give Potter a reassuring smile. It was hard when he didn’t feel terrifically reassured himself. “Draco tends to… dwell on things.” He wondered how best to explain it. “You might run off to fix something the moment you can, but he’s not the same,” he said, and Potter frowned. “Draco doesn’t always realize why he’s being stupid until something drastic happens, and even after that he’ll brood for a while to figure out what to do.”</p>
<p>Potter still looked lost, so Theo tried to think of a good example. He remembered one at once, and couldn’t help smirking. “You should have seen him back in fourth year,” he said, chuckling a bit. “It took him ages to figure out why he was so furious you were made champion.” </p>
<p>“Because it was me, and he hated me?”</p>
<p>“Because it wasn’t <em> him.” </em>Theo rolled his eyes. “He didn’t realize he was jealous for months. Thought it was plain old vitriol. And then he saw the dragons and figured out he was perfectly fine sitting on the sidelines after all.”</p>
<p>Potter burst into laughter. “He and Ron might get on,” he managed, once he had control of his breath. “Merlin’s pants.” This made absolutely no sense to Theo, but it must have to Potter because he straightened up, took one last look at the wall, and let out a breath. “All right,” he said at last, “I’ll give him some time. How much, d’you reckon? A day? Two?” </p>
<p>“What, you want me to write you a manual?” </p>
<p>“Yes, please.” </p>
<p>Theo snorted. “Sort your relationship out for yourself, Potter. In the meantime, pick up my bookbag, would you?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In Which New Friends are Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three days after the fight, Potter yanked Theo into a bone-crushing hug in the middle of the hallway, right in broad daylight and, unfortunately, right in front of Pansy.</p><p>Theo had expected Draco to take at least a fortnight to sort himself out, so when they talked things out in just a matter of days, Theo took it as a welcome relief. But now, a week after they’d made up, he was starting to wish they were still fighting.</p><p>Hugging Theo in a hallway wasn’t enough for Potter. Over the next few weeks he became suddenly and unbearably friendly, and either didn’t realize or didn’t care that he was doing everything in his power to draw attention to the two of them. He took to smacking Theo’s arm whenever they passed one another between classes, catching Theo’s eye during classes and smiling, and even visited the Slytherin table one afternoon at lunch to let Theo borrow his copy of <em> Confronting the Faceless.  </em></p><p>And thus Pansy’s pity multiplied tenfold. </p><p>“Theo,” she said delicately as they took their seats for Charms. Across the classroom over Professor Flitwitck’s head, Potter waved. Theo waved back more discreetly, but saw Pansy bite her lip out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to groan.</p><p>“You’ve been, er. Spending a lot of time with Potter lately,” Pansy continued.</p><p>“Hm?” Theo pulled his wand from his boot. “Yeah, I suppose so.” </p><p>He’d known it was only a matter of time before Pansy brought it up, but he’d hoped she’d hold off a little longer.</p><p>“Well,” she said now, “Blaise and I have been talking.” </p><p>Beside them, Blaise ignored this. Theo wasn’t surprised. If they were truly concerned about him, Blaise wasn’t likely to show it unprompted.</p><p>“About what?” Theo said, hoping Pansy would take his feigned ignorance as a sign to drop the subject. </p><p>“You,” Pansy said. “Honestly, Theo. It’s not healthy, if you’re really serious about him.” </p><p>“I’m fine,” Theo assured her. Well, maybe that was a bit suspicious. “I’ll be fine,” he amended.</p><p>Pansy took the bait immediately. “Theo,” she said sadly. “This is what I’m talking about. You can’t just hope it’ll go away. You need something else to focus on.” </p><p>“I’ve got my studies,” Theo said firmly. It was as close to the truth as he could get.</p><p>“Not good enough.” Pansy smirked, which instantly lined Theo’s stomach with horror. “And that’s why—”</p><p>“No,” Theo croaked.</p><p><em> “Yes,” </em>Pansy said. “Finnigan asked me last week if I knew any boys who were looking for a date, you know, with— another boy.”</p><p>“You set me up with <em> Finnigan?”  </em></p><p>“No!” Pansy snorted. “No, of course not. He was asking for a friend.” </p><p>“Pansy, they all say that.” </p><p>“Trust me.” Pansy punched his arm. </p><p>Before Theo had a chance to punch her back, Professor Flitwick clapped his hands, and the room descended into darkness. Wand tips ignited around the classroom, and class began. Flitwick drew a circle of bright purple light in the air, and they all hastened to copy him. Theo’s circle turned out nicely. Blaise’s circle was more of an oval and Pansy’s looked rather like a broad bean.</p><p>“Pansy, seriously, I don’t need—” Theo hissed, but Blaise bumped his shoulder before he could finish. Theo’s circle of light wobbled and flickered out. </p><p>“Give it a chance,” he said quietly. </p><p>Theo had no choice but to relight his wand and nod in numb acceptance. </p><hr/><p>Theo normally looked forward to Hogsmeade trips. He enjoyed wandering down the same cobbled road of magical shops, seeing what had changed since his last visit and what had remained the same. His espionage work was particularly easy during Hogsmeade weekends, since everyone else was too busy getting their own shopping and sight-seeing done to worry about how Draco and Potter had surreptitiously wandered off together.</p><p>This week, however, Theo had to physically force himself to join the line of students leaving the castle. </p><p>Pansy and Blaise had still refused to tell him who his supposed date was. Even Finnigan had refused to speak when Theo cornered him after class one day. The second the word “date” came out of Theo’s mouth, Finnigan sidestepped him and scampered out of the Potions classroom without another word, grinning like a loon.</p><p>This meant Theo definitely knew the poor sod. And when he imagined himself spending an hour at Madam Puddifoot’s, he couldn’t think of a single person whose company would turn it into a pleasant affair.</p><p>Madam Puddifoot’s looked devoid of any other students as Theo entered. About a third of the tables were in use, chairs occupied by old witches getting together for a day’s chat. Theo didn’t see a single couple as he scanned the room, looking for someone who would fit the description Pansy had given him— male and from Hogwarts. It wasn’t much to go off of, but given the sight of the place Theo didn’t think he’d have too much trouble. </p><p>In the far corner away from the windows, he spotted a set of dark robes. Theo’s heart leapt— how was he going to do this? How was he going to explain that no, actually, he wasn’t looking for a date right now, or perhaps ever, so sorry— What if his date had gotten his hopes up? </p><p>Gritting his teeth, Theo walked over. A blonde head of hair looked up as he approached, and Theo caught sight of the yellow lining on the boy’s hood. </p><p>“Macmillan?” Theo said blankly. </p><p>Macmillan went scarlet. <em> “You?” </em>he said incredulously, scooting back several feet. “No. This is a joke.” </p><p>Theo had walked into this expecting to hurt someone’s feelings. He hadn’t expected someone else to hurt his own. Well then, he thought to himself. He’d been right all along. Macmillan, Finch-Fletchley, Bones, none of them were going to give him so much as a passing thought— unless it was <em> wanker. </em>Until now it hadn’t really mattered what they thought, and Theo had resigned himself to the reality that their houses would always divide them, but now…</p><p>Maybe it was due to the added vulnerability of standing in the middle of the gaudiest shop in Hogsmeade on a pity-date that he hadn’t even set up himself, but Macmillan’s immediate horror hit Theo in the gut.</p><p>He turned on his heel. At least now he’d have an excuse as to why this set-up had been a disaster. </p><p>He made it halfway to the door before— </p><p>“Wait,” Macmillan called. </p><p>Theo turned. “What.”</p><p>“Just—” Macmillan, still red, looked down at the table. “I—” He clamped his mouth shut. “Never mind,” he said tightly. “You can go. I don’t know what I’m saying.” </p><p>Theo hesitated. And then he walked, slowly, back to the table in the corner and sat down on the remarkably plush chair. The silk pillows were smooth enough that he nearly slipped off the side, and had to catch the windowsill to balance himself. Macmillan watched him struggle for a moment, and then pressed his lips together in what was either disapproval or amusement, Theo couldn’t quite tell.</p><p>A moment later, a plump woman in a frilly apron came over and set two menus in front of them, along with a three-tiered stack of pastries. She left quickly, giving Theo an over-exaggerated wink.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were bent too,” Macmillan began bluntly, once they were alone.</p><p>“I’m not,” Theo said honestly. </p><p>“What?” Macmillan blinked. “But Seamus said—”</p><p>“It’s complicated.” Theo sighed. Did everyone in their year think he was mooning over Potter? How long would this go on? Probably until the end of the year, when everything would come out, so to speak. In the meantime, it wasn’t the worst rumor in the world to have hanging over his head like a neon banner. Theo would survive. </p><p>Macmillan looked heartbroken. “Oh,” he said.</p><p>Theo took a crumpet and split it in two. He offered one half to Macmillan. “Want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Not really,” Macmillan said, taking the crumpet. He spread on a generous layer of jam. </p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>They ate their crumpets in silence for about a minute. Theo finished his first and looked around the shop in awkward silence while Macmillan ate. It took about ten seconds for the witch in the apron to catch his eye, and she immediately bustled over. She cooed over them for a solid two minutes before, to Theo’s immense embarrassment, fetching a gigantic red candle for their table. It smelled so powerfully of cinnamon that Theo’s head began to spin. </p><p>The moment she was gone, Theo looked to Macmillan. “Is she watching?” he hissed. </p><p>Macmillan looked over Theo’s shoulder. “No,” he said. “She’s talking with the table by the door.”</p><p>Theo blew out the candle. He flapped a hand over the smoke to disperse it as quickly as he could, leaned back, and nearly fell off the stool again. </p><p>Macmillan really did smile this time.</p><p>“Let me know if she’s coming over again,” Theo muttered. “So I have time to choke myself on a scone.”</p><p>“Will do,” Macmillan said. “Though, d’you think we could just explain that we’re not, you know… on a date?”</p><p>“Technically, we are,” Theo pointed out, and Macmillan began to snigger. “What?”</p><p>“It’s just,” Macmillan said, still giggling, “I didn’t even want to come here in the first place. This was all Justin’s idea, and I— I couldn’t just tell him no, so I went with it. And then he got Seamus and Dean involved, and they got Parkinson in on it, and now…” He gestured to the table. “Now it’s a whole <em> thing.” </em></p><p><em> “I </em>didn’t want to be here either,” Theo said, relief making him butter his scone with perhaps too much force. It broke in two, one half clattering onto his plate. “But I had to say yes. Once Pansy sets her mind to something, there’s nothing that can stop her. Except maybe Blaise, but <em> he </em>was no help.” He gave Macmillan a sheepish smile. It was surprisingly nice to talk about it, even if he couldn’t exactly explain why Pansy had set him up, or why he couldn’t back out. “It’s hard to get them off my back sometimes,” he admitted.</p><p>“Ugh,” Macmillan said. “Tell me about it.” He paused. “Seamus says your lot isn’t so bad, you know? He <em> likes </em>you. Not like that!” he added, at Theo’s panicked expression. “He just— it’s odd, all right? I thought, out of everyone, the Gryffindors would hold off on trusting you.” </p><p>“Eh,” Theo said, “I think you Hufflepuffs have been taking care of it.” He picked up the other half of his scone, which had fallen onto his porcelain plate. Macmillan didn’t say anything for a while, apparently thinking everything over. “I don’t blame you,” Theo said quietly. “Especially Finch-Fletchley and the other Muggleborns. It must have been hard not knowing who to trust, and I can’t imagine that would wear off quickly.”</p><p>Macmillan snorted. “You’ve got that right.”</p><p>Theo didn’t have anything to add to that, and Macmillan didn’t offer up another topic of conversation, so they fell into an awkward silence. Without talk to distract him, it was suddenly a lot more uncomfortable in this cramped, sweet-smelling shop. The air was thick with steam from a dozen teapots scattered across the tables, each one offering a different pungent aroma. Theo caught an equal whiff of hibiscus and English Breakfast, and closed his eyes to fight off nausea.</p><p>Macmillan cleared his throat, and Theo snapped back to attention. “Look,” Macmillan said, “this has been. Er. Fun.” </p><p>“You can call it what it is.” </p><p>“Right, this has been atrocious,” Macmillan said, and Theo snorted. “In any case,” Macmillan added awkwardly, “I should— I mean to say, I was going to stop by Scrivenshaft’s—”</p><p>“By all means.” Theo’s head was starting to spin. “Come on. If we leave now she might not see us going.” He glanced at the witch by the front counter, who had inserted herself into the nearby table’s conversation and appeared to have forgotten about them entirely. Theo could only hope.</p><p>They each dropped a handful of sickles on the table, taking care not to let them clatter against the porcelain. The witch with the apron took no notice as they hurried behind her and escaped out the door. </p><p>It closed with a tinkle behind them. Damp March air hit their faces, blissfully cool and earthy, and they both doubled over, laughing.</p><p>“Well,” Theo said, once they’d caught their breath. “Have a good time at Scrivenshaft’s. I don’t think I’ve ever been.” </p><p>“Stop by sometime,” Macmillan called over his shoulder, rejoining the main road of wandering students. He gave a wave and turned to the crowd. Theo waved after him, feeling lighter than he had in months.</p><hr/><p>March ushered in sudden N.E.W.T. stress. The main harbinger of this was Granger, who held the belief that March meant the coming of April, which meant the coming of May, which meant it was really almost June, and their exams were “just around the corner.” </p><p>At the start of the month, these urgent implorations had little to no effect on the rest of the eighth-year class. But once the sun emerged a few times and the threat of spring crested the horizon, some of them conceded that yes, perhaps time was starting to thin. Parvati Patil in particular could be found at Granger’s study table nearly every night, a stark difference from the beginning of term. She’d seemed to think her Divination exam would be easy enough to wing, and had only now realized she hadn’t finished a single assignment from their advanced fire omens unit. </p><p>Theo didn’t expect his own stress to kick in until after the Easter holidays. Like most of them, he was taking most of the core N.E.W.T. exams; Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and Charms. Theo was an outlier in that he wasn’t taking any elective N.E.W.T.s. He planned to take a simple pass for his Astronomy exam, along with nearly everyone else. He thought he’d use his second one on either Herbology or History of Magic, but hadn’t yet decided which would be more useful.</p><p>Finnigan and Thomas were both taking the pass for Herbology, and Blaise refused to take an exam for History of Magic on principle. Draco would sit for the Muggle Studies exam along with Finch-Fletchley. Patil was taking the Divination exam, and Granger, of course, was ignoring the option of a pass in favor of taking all the core exams, plus the ones for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. </p><p>The only reason Theo knew any of this was because none of them would shut the hell up about it. One night Theo woke to the sound of Finnigan and Thomas arguing with Longbottom about the importance of a proper N.E.W.T. score versus the pass/fail option, and how important Herbology really was in the long run.</p><p>“I don’t know if you were used to keeping people up in the Gryffindor dorms,” Draco had drawled, adding another voice into the mix. “But I seem to remember much less talking and much more <em> sleeping.” </em>Theo heard what sounded suspiciously like Potter’s voice snickering from the same area, but it was quickly muffled. </p><p>“Bollocks,” Blaise had called sleepily back. “If I recall correctly, you—”</p><p>“If <em> I </em>recall correctly,” Theo said hurriedly, just in case Blaise decided to wake up enough to start noticing things, “we’re supposed to be in the greenhouses before dawn tomorrow, so I suggest you stop bickering.” </p><p>“But,” Finnigan started.</p><p>“Plants are very important,” Theo mumbled, falling back on his pillow. He heard Longbottom crow a victorious <em> Ha! </em> “So is washing your feet before you stink up the dorm,” Theo added, and Longbottom went quiet. “Go to <em> sleep.”  </em></p><p>By the next morning, the boys were all thoroughly exhausted. Theo caught sight of Macmillan two tables over, and gave a halfhearted wave. Macmillan returned it, yawning into his cornflakes. </p><p>“You’re friends with Macmillan now?” Draco asked, when he saw this. </p><p>Pansy looked like she was trying very hard not to say something. Theo ignored her. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess. Why?” </p><p>“No reason.” Draco shrugged. “It’s just surprising, I suppose.”</p><p>“Mm,” Theo said. “Coffee, please.” </p><hr/><p>By the time the Easter holidays arrived, Theo was well and truly ready for a break. </p><p>Playing Draco and Potter’s secret-keeper did provide certain benefits. It was nice to have Draco pour his morning coffee— now more out of a guilty conscience rather than the threat of being ratted out, which Theo appreciated. Potter had even let Theo ride his Firebolt on one memorable occasion. Theo had wound up hanging in an oak by the hood of his robes, forced to listen to Potter ask between wheezes whether he’d ridden a broom since first year.</p><p>But it all came with the price of constantly diverting Blaise and Pansy’s attentions from their increasingly riskier and riskier excursions, trysts, and— oh, for Merlin’s sake— <em> hookups.  </em></p><p>One afternoon, the D.A.D.A. study group had decided a training session in the Room of Requirement was in order— ha, Theo could remember its name after all— and Theo had known for a fact that it was currently occupied. In the end, he’d somehow found himself leading the damn thing in the eighth-year common room instead. Blaise had scribbled something down on his stupid parchment, and Potter and Draco hadn’t batted an eye when they’d returned an hour later to a room full of dueling eighth-years.</p><p>So when they woke up one morning to a post on the bulletin board announcing that the Easter holidays would begin on April 2nd and classes would resume on April 16th, Theo wanted to melt into the floor, or perhaps evaporate. Whichever would give him the quickest death.</p><p>Almost everyone was staying at Hogwarts. </p><p>There were a few exceptions. Macmillan, for instance, was heading home to visit his parents.</p><p>“I’ll bring you back some Jaffa Cakes,” he said that afternoon, packing his suitcase so haphazardly that Theo felt a headache beginning to press behind his eye sockets. “They’re heavenly.” </p><p>“I’ll send one home to my stepfather,” Theo promised. “I don’t think he’s ever had muggle sweets.”</p><p>“You purebloods are missing out,” Ernie chided, sticking out his tongue, and went on to describe something called a <em> Jelly Baby </em>that turned out to be a lot less horrifying than it sounded.</p><p>Abbot was following Bones home for the holiday, and Weasley was the only other one visiting family. It would be his family’s first Easter without his brother, and from what Theo had heard through the grapevine, Christmas had been somewhat of a shit-show.</p><p>The rest of them— Potter, Draco, Blaise and Pansy included— would be staying at Hogwarts. And for the next two weeks, they wouldn’t have classes to keep them busy for the better part of the day. Theo only had to glance at Draco and catch the self-satisfied smirk on his face to know precisely what he and Potter would be doing whenever they found the chance. </p><p>By April 16th, Theo was going to pass away, a decrepit old man driven to madness. </p><p>Despondent, he watched Potter and Draco head out of the common room together. He just couldn’t be bothered to say anything about it this time. Perhaps he could head down to the kitchens for some much needed food.  </p><p>Then Blaise tapped his shoulder. </p><p>Heart sinking, Theo put on a blank expression. Blaise wrinkled his nose. “Cut that out,” he said. “Theo, are you going to tell me what’s actually going on?” </p><p>“I,” Theo said, “what do you mean?” </p><p>“Potter,” Blaise said, “Macmillan. You. All of this. You’ve been acting up all year.” He folded his arms and glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “Are you all right?” he asked at last.</p><p>Theo took a moment to process this. “I— what?” </p><p>“Is something going on?” Blaise clarified. “I know I’m not the best at this. But.” He cleared his throat. “I’m starting to get concerned. Did Potter do something?” Again, he looked around the room for eavesdroppers, and then continued in a low, worried whisper. “He’s not… leading you on, is he?” </p><p><em> “No,” </em> Theo said quickly, “no, he— he’s just trying to give everyone a second chance. Including me.” </p><p>“I doubt it,” Blaise muttered. “He just wants everyone on his side.” </p><p>“You only think that because you’ve been in Slytherin for seven and a half years,” Theo said flatly.</p><p>Blaise sighed. “Fair enough,” he said, “but I still feel like something’s wrong. Pansy said you frightened her at Christmas, so if it’s something to do with the holidays… perhaps your family...” He looked at the bulletin board, like he was double-checking the Easter holiday dates. Theo knew he was just avoiding eye contact. “We’re both going to be here for this one. So. If you need us. For anything.”</p><p>Theo’s heart tugged— which was an instant red flag. It was entirely plausible this was all a show, and Blaise was digging for information. He wasn’t going to get it, so Theo wasn’t too worried, but he still wistfully hoped this was genuine. It was rare that Blaise displayed human emotions beyond basic displeasure or vindictive smugness. </p><p>“Thank you,” Theo said. “I suppose you could say I’m just… trying to figure things out.” He looked around the room, at the awkwardly placed fireplace that couldn’t possibly connect to any sort of ceiling, at the plush chair stolen from the Gryffindor common room, and at the doors to the dormitories that had once been classrooms. “Everything’s so different,” he said quietly. “We’re living with people we’ve never shared more than a class with before. From the way McGonagall’s been running us, I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts implementing inter-house unity programs next year.” </p><p>Blaise snorted. “Sounds moony to me.”</p><p>“Yeah, a bit,” Theo agreed. “But a couple years ago we wouldn’t have thought that was possible.”</p><p>“Mm.” Blaise sighed. “Well, if you’re sure everything’s fine, then I’ll lay off.” Theo sagged in relief, and Blaise turned to head for the door. “Oh,” he said, turning back. “And— Theo?” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Don’t forget who gets the winnings if you cheat.” </p><p>And with a wink, Blaise followed the Patil twins out the door. </p><hr/><p>“I am asking you nicely.” Theo put his hands together in prayer. <em> “Please </em>don’t make my life any harder than it has to be.” </p><p>The room had decided to be a solarium today, with glass walls and ceilings that overlooked the forest, and plush rows of plant life lining the walls. None of it was real, obviously, but Theo had to admit it was rather pretty. </p><p>At that thought, a bush on the opposite wall flowered. </p><p>“I don’t see why we should care,” Draco said, picking a piece of dirt out from under his fingernail. </p><p>“Maybe because Blaise <em> definitely </em>thinks something’s up with you two and me, and with Macmillan too now—” </p><p>Draco snorted. Potter looked confused. “What?” he said, “what’s going on with Macmillan?” </p><p>Draco sniggered again. “Theo is.”</p><p>“I am <em> not.</em><em>” </em>Theo folded his arms crossly. “We’re just— acquainted. Now.” </p><p>“I’m lost,” Potter said. “Enlighten me.” </p><p>Sensing they weren’t going to get anywhere until this was resolved, Theo sighed. “You know how Pansy and Blaise think I’m mooning over you?” Potter nodded, as though this was perfectly normal. By now, it rather was. “Well,” Theo said, “they, er, tried to set me up.” </p><p>“With <em> Ernie?” </em>Potter’s eyes widened. “Why?” </p><p>“He’s probably the only bent bloke they could find,” Draco pointed out. “You know, besides us.” </p><p>“Ernie’s gay?” Potter said blankly, clearly three steps behind. </p><p>Theo ran a hand over his face. “Look,” he said, “could you two just— keep things down for a little while, so Blaise stops sniffing after me? Just until the end of the holidays, that’s all I’m asking.” </p><p>Draco’s nostrils flared. “We’re already your slaves. That’s not reward enough?” </p><p>“Making my coffee in the morning hardly counts as slave labor.” Theo raised an eyebrow. “I’m just asking you to keep the suspicious absences at a minimum. For two weeks. Shag in the middle of the night, like normal people. Sneak out after hours. Surely it’s not that hard.” </p><p>“It’s <em> very </em>hard,” Draco said, his grin sharp. “I assure you.” </p><p>Potter smacked him. “Draco’s right, though,” he admitted. “It’s hard to sneak in and out of a room full of people.” He mussed his own hair up absently, sighing. “Especially when that room of people contains Ron.” </p><p>“You could always tell him to mind his own fucking business,” Draco said pleasantly. </p><p>“Ron’s one of my best friends,” Potter said, “I can’t just say something like that.” </p><p>“Why not?” Draco shrugged. “I tell Blaise to mind his own fucking business every morning. It’s hardly a challenge.” </p><p>“Ron’s— different.” Potter pushed his hair out of his eyes. It fell right back in his face. </p><p>Theo personally agreed with Potter. While Weasley and Potter would take curses for one another in a heartbeat, the closest thing to a best friend Draco had ever had was now facing at least ten years in Azkaban after testifying against him in court. The list of people who would take a curse for <em> Draco </em>was down to about one.</p><p>Draco tutted. “The point being,” he said, looking at Theo, “unless you can slip everyone else a Draught of Living Death before bed, I doubt that’s a feasible plan.”</p><p>“Then just— don’t shag <em> every day,” </em>Theo pleaded. “I’m begging you. I can’t do this all holiday.” </p><p>“Harry, I think he’s about to cry,” Draco said, in genuine surprise. “What do I do?” </p><p>“Listen to him, maybe?” Potter suggested.</p><p>They were both remarkably unconcerned about the fact that Theo was discussing their sex life. Well. Potter had saved the world and Draco was facing the possibility of Azkaban. Indignity was not likely high on their list of concerns. Theo realized abruptly that that was also probably <em> why </em>they were shagging every possible minute. At the end of the year they’d either fly off into the sunset together on a broomstick or spend five years torn apart.</p><p>“All right,” he said. “I get it. Just.” He took a breath. “At least try to be a little more careful?”</p><p>Potter clicked his tongue. “I could start carrying my cloak around more often.” </p><p>Draco let out a long breath through his nose. “Fine,” he said. “I will try to be less.” He paused, trying to think of the word. “Blatant.” </p><p>“You’re that obtuse on <em> purpose?” </em>Theo moaned.</p><p>Draco shrugged. “You make me fix your coffee.”</p><hr/><p>Hardly any of them felt relaxed once the Easter holidays began. Theo was starkly reminded of their third year, when they’d truly believed themselves swamped because of the added exams for their electives. How naïve they’d been. </p><p>When Granger began telling people off for eating too loudly in the common room upon the dawn of the fourth day, Theo decided he’d had enough. He might not be able to write in the kitchens, but he’d certainly have enough privacy to read while enjoying his porridge in peace. </p><p>Molrey was once again absent when Theo got there, and he quickly assured the other elves he’d be fine with the porridge he’d brought from breakfast. This clearly wasn’t convincing enough, and within a few minutes he was given a fresh warm bowl, topped with sliced peaches and mouth-watering blueberries. </p><p>Theo settled against a far wall, taking care that his legs didn’t get in the way of the house-elves running to and fro, and pulled out his book.</p><p>Not five minutes later he heard the door to the kitchens open, though he couldn’t see it from where he sat. Theo sighed, held his book up over his face, and hoped that whoever it was would have enough sense to read his <em> leave me alone </em>signals. </p><p>Someone sniffed. </p><p>Theo heard a veritable army of house-elves begin to accost the newcomer, asking over and over whether they wanted a plate of eclairs, or profiteroles, or lemon-sugar pancakes. He could hear whoever it was meekly trying to dissuade them away, but as it always was when house-elves were offering something, the task was nigh-impossible.</p><p>Eventually the newcomer agreed to have some eggs, and Theo watched the swarm of house-elves swell as their army returned victorious. Footsteps drew nearer, and Theo belatedly realized that he’d let his book fall to his lap—</p><p>“Nott?”</p><p>It was Finch-Fletchley. </p><p>Theo swallowed, then nodded. “Hey,” he said. </p><p>Finch-Fletchley hurriedly wiped his sleeve over his face. He’d clearly been crying for some time, and now that someone was watching him, he looked as if he wanted nothing more than to disapparate into the middle of the lake and drown himself. Theo empathized with him greatly. </p><p>“Sorry,” Finch-Fletchley said, “I— didn’t think anyone else would be here.” </p><p>“Granger told me off for eating porridge too close to her,” Theo said, holding up his bowl. “So I retreated.” </p><p>Finch-Fletchley laughed weakly. An elf appeared at his side with a plate of eggs— far too many eggs for one person to eat on their own. Finch-Fletchley thanked the elf nervously, no doubt worrying what he’d do when he inevitably couldn’t finish the whole plate. </p><p>As far as Theo could tell, Finch-Fletchley fit the Hufflepuff stereotypes to a T. He had never overperformed in class, made any sort of rallying speech that Theo could remember, or solved a pressing mystery about the castle. He kept to himself, hardly talked to anyone besides his housemates, and didn’t seem to want to change any of this. </p><p>And now Macmillan, Abbot, and Bones were gone for the holiday.  </p><p>Theo cleared his throat. “Sorry if this is overstepping, but… are you all right?” </p><p>Whatever Finch-Fletchley had expected, it wasn’t that. He opened his mouth, couldn’t think of anything to say, and shut it again.</p><p>Theo raised an eyebrow. “You’re crying.”</p><p>Finch-Fletchley rubbed his face again, looking away. “Right,” he muttered. “Well, if that’s all you wanted to point out, I think I’ll go.” </p><p>“No,” Theo said, “wait, that came out wrong.” He set his porridge down along with his book and stood. “I meant to ask if I could do something.” </p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Finch-Fletchley rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you were. Because you’re so willing to stick your neck out for someone like me.” </p><p>“I’m not sticking anything out,” Theo said. “And you’re not someone <em> like </em>anyone. We’re all in the same category now, if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured to his robes, which bore not only the green lining of Slytherin house, but also a small badge by the right lapel that labeled them as the eighth-year class. It granted them privileges such as extra hours outside of curfew and access to the prefect bathrooms. </p><p>Finch-Fletchley scoffed. “Sure. We’re the same like—” He searched for a proper metaphor. “Like a Common Welsh Green and a Hungarian Horntail.”</p><p>“They’re both dragons,” Theo tried. </p><p>“The difference is that one of them is <em> rubbish,” </em>Finch-Fletchley said, eyes glowing with tears again. He wiped his sleeve over his face. “I’m rubbish, all right?” he finished, folding his arms and looking down. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Theo blinked. “We’re taking N.E.W.T. exams in two months.” </p><p>“And the only one I’m going to pass is Muggle Studies,” Finch-Fletchley snapped. “Because being a Muggle is the only thing I’m good at doing.” He tutted. “Your lot,” he said, and Theo took that to mean <em> Slytherin house </em> , “has told me time and again how I’m not really supposed to be a wizard. I spent all of last year living as a Muggle. Now I’m back,” he said, throwing his arms open, “and everyone’s lived through this war but me.” He jabbed a finger at his own chest. <em> “I’m </em> not part of you all, because <em> I </em>just hung back when things got important, and now—” He sighed. “Now I’m just here to fail a few tests and get a slip of paper that says I’m really, really good at being a Muggle.”</p><p>He was breathless by the end of it, and Theo got the impression that he was the first person to whom Finch-Fletchley had told any of this.</p><p>“Well,” he said slowly, “I can tell you you’re wrong about one thing.” </p><p>“Don’t try to tell me I’m brilliant at magic,” Finch-Fletchley said crossly. “I can barely cast <em> Aguamenti—”  </em></p><p>“You <em> did </em>live through the war,” Theo said. “You did what, frankly, a lot of people couldn’t do. You survived.” </p><p>“By hiding like a coward.” </p><p>“By hiding like someone who knew they had to hide,” Theo corrected. “Come off it, I’m in the house that’s all about knowing when to fight and when to lay low. If anyone’s going to understand, it’s us.”</p><p>Finch-Fletchley had to think about this for a while. Relating to a Slytherin was apparently a new skill that still required practice. Theo took the opportunity to fetch his porridge and down most of it before it began to run cold.</p><p>“Still,” Finch-Fletchley finally said, “that doesn’t change the fact that I’m the worst in our class.” </p><p>“Oh, who cares,” Theo said through a mouthful of peaches. “You’re still a <em> wizard. </em>Paperwork can’t take that away from you.” </p><p>“I— why do you care?” Finch-Fletchley asked, sounding more confused rather than angry. “You’ve never even talked to me before, why should it matter to you?” </p><p>Theo thought. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know. But why shouldn’t it?” </p><p>This, he thought, was a very good closing line. It would pair nicely with a proper dramatic exit, but he was perfectly content here in the cozy glow of the kitchens. He sat back down, porridge in one hand, and picked his book up with the other. Finch-Fletchley watched him for a full paragraph before sitting down beside the wall himself, and soon Theo heard the tinkle of a fork scraping porcelain. </p><hr/><p>Finch-Fletchley didn’t begin talking to him regularly like Macmillan, but every so often he’d make eye contact with Theo and hold it for a full second before looking away.</p><p>By the end of the Easter holidays, Theo had all but forgotten about his ever-present task of keeping Potter and Draco’s escapades firmly under the radar. He’d actually begun to worry that they were fighting again and subsequently keeping their distance, until one morning when he spotted them brushing their hands together in passing. </p><p>The sun began to set on the last night of the holidays. Most of the others had already returned to Hogwarts, except Weasley, who would be back tomorrow morning in time for breakfast. And by nine-o-clock they’d all be back in class. </p><p>Theo was taking the opportunity to sort through his things while the boy’s dormitory was empty. He didn’t fancy clearing out his old clothes and garbage while there was someone around to see it, even if he knew no one else would care. He was just setting aside his pile of socks that had lost their mates when someone threw open the door and burst inside. </p><p>Weasley had just entered the boy’s dormitory, looking extremely concerned. </p><p>Not noticing Theo, he slammed the door behind him and made a beeline for one of the beds— Draco’s bed, specifically. Without hesitation, Weasley bent down and began rifling through Draco’s things, undoing his trunk and tossing out clothes left and right. </p><p>“Bloody bollocking <em> shit,” </em>Weasley swore, pulling out a pair of gloves, examining them, and tossing them away. Theo stared. Weasley was supposed to be miles away right now. Why was he here? And why on earth was he snooping through Draco’s trunk? Theo watched, dumbfounded, as Weasley pulled out an ornate looking box that had to be worth more than anything he owned himself. He opened it, pulled out what looked like a peach pit, and stuffed it into his pocket, dropping the box onto Draco’s bed without a second thought.</p><p><em> “Hey,” </em>Theo barked, taking a step forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” </p><p>Weasley jumped about a mile in the air, looking like a niffler caught stealing the crown jewels. “Er,” he said, “Theo. Hello. I was just...” Weasley trailed off, looking around the dorm to check who else was there. When he found no one, he nodded to himself then turned back to Theo. <em> “Malfoy,” </em>he said with some effort, “asked me to fetch him something.” </p><p>“Er,” Theo said. “He did?”</p><p>“Yes.” Weasley scowled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” </p><p>And he swept out of the common room with a swish of his robes, leaving a dumbfounded Theo in his wake. </p><p>Theo abandoned his socks, following Weasley out into the common room. </p><p>“Ron,” Granger was saying, “you didn’t answer me, why didn’t you tell me you’d changed plans? I would have met you at the station, you know.” </p><p>“I am aware,” Weasley said stiffly, trying to extract his arm from her grip with some difficulty. “But I do have somewhere to be, so if you could just— let go—”</p><p>“Not a chance.” Granger beamed at him. “I’ve missed you far too much for that.” She kissed each of his cheeks, and then his nose. Weasley went faintly green. </p><p>“I’m not feeling well,” he said, finally forcing his way out of Granger’s hold. She took a step back, concern sweeping over the joy she’d just been showing.</p><p>“Oh,” she said softly. “It went that badly, did it?” </p><p>“What?” Weasley stared blankly at her. “Yes,” he said after a moment. Then— “I need to take a shower.” </p><p>“Would you like me to come with you?” </p><p>
  <em> “No.”  </em>
</p><p>Granger’s face fell. “If you’re sure,” she said, and gave Weasley a hurt and puzzled look before heading back to the table. </p><p>Finnigan and Thomas scowled at Weasley from their seats beside her, but Weasley neither noticed nor cared. He spotted Theo standing in the doorway to the boy’s dorms, sighed, and jerked his head toward the door that led to the outside corridor. Theo opened his mouth, but Weasley shook his head minutely. </p><p>Wondering what in the hell he was signing himself up for now, Theo excused himself out after Weasley. </p><p>The minute they were outside the common room, Weasley let his back fall against the marble and slid down a few inches, groaning softly. </p><p>“Er,” Theo said. “Is— do you want to talk about—”</p><p>“Shut up, Theo,” Weasley muttered. “Tell me you know how to break into Slughorn’s study.” </p><p><em> “What?” </em>Theo took a step back. “Why would I—”</p><p>“Useless, then,” Weasley grumbled. “Fine. I’ll have to do it myself. Follow me, and make sure Granger doesn’t start tailing.” </p><p>And he set off down the hallway. Theo jogged after him, a pit of worry taking root in his stomach. “Why,” he panted, “do you need to break into Slughorn’s—”</p><p>“Shh,” Weasley hissed. He tugged a tapestry to the side and clambered down the set of stairs that led to the Hufflepuff common room and the kitchens. Theo followed, as the pit in his stomach began to sprout. They emerged on the other side and nearly bowled over the Patil twins, but Weasley didn’t bother apologizing.</p><p>“What,” Theo gasped, when he’d finally caught up to Weasley. They were in the foyer to the Great Hall, and on the opposite side of the hall was the dark stone entrance to the dungeons. But Weasley had stopped short behind a large stone pillar, watching the Great Hall entrance carefully. “What are we—”</p><p>“Shit,” Weasley hissed, cutting him off. “Shit, <em> shit.”  </em></p><p>Potter, who had lagged behind at dinner like he did for every meal, was strolling casually out of the Great Hall, humming absently to himself. </p><p>“Bloody <em> cunting fuck—”  </em></p><p>Potter had spotted them and begun to jog over. </p><p>“Ron, you’re back early,” he greeted, and saw Theo. “Nott,” he added, clearly wondering what they were doing together. Theo, who was doing the same thing, nodded stiffly.</p><p>Weasley said nothing.</p><p>“Did you come down to meet me?” Potter asked, looking between the two of them. Weasley didn’t answer this either. After a full three seconds, he kicked Theo’s shin. </p><p>“No,” Theo said, biting his lip to distract from the immense pain. “We were just— on our way down to Slughorn’s.” </p><p>Another kick. Theo forced his tongue between his teeth so he wouldn’t split his lip. </p><p>“Oh,” Potter said, looking disappointed. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t stop for long. Draco wanted to see me about something.” He frowned. “It sounded serious, I hope he’s all right.”</p><p>This was putting it on a bit thick, Theo thought. Hadn’t Potter learned anything? Now Weasley was going to start spreading rumors about Draco’s health, or his family, or something else equally ripe for gossip. </p><p>Weasley gave a laugh that sounded incredibly forced. “Malfoy,” he said derisively. “I don’t see why you care about <em> that </em>tosser.” </p><p>“Ron,” Potter said with some surprise. “I thought you said you were giving him a chance.” He sighed. “Well, I’d better go. I’ll see you tomorrow, though,” he added over his shoulder. He gave Weasley one last look that reeked of righteous disappointment, and continued on his way. </p><p>“He’s really not that bad,” Theo said awkwardly, following Weasley down the stone steps that led to the dungeons. “You just have to break through the, er, shell.” </p><p>“Shut <em> up, </em> Theo,” Weasley muttered, finally coming to a stop once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs and were properly out of sight. “Look,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m supposed to meet Harry in exactly twenty minutes, and I can’t very well show up looking like <em> this.” </em>He gestured down at himself. </p><p>Theo looked. Weasley looked perfectly presentable. His robes were impeccably ironed, with barely a speck of dust on them. The lining was pressed, the hood was flat, and the Slytherin emblem on the left side glinted even in the dim dungeon light—</p><p>“Merlin’s pants,” Theo breathed. <em> “Draco?”  </em></p><p>“You hadn’t caught on yet?” Draco scowled with Weasley’s face, and Theo wondered how on earth he hadn’t seen it sooner.</p><p>“What,” he said weakly, “what were you— why did you—” </p><p>“Not important,” Draco said quickly, pulling the little pit out of his pocket again. “This is a bezoar. Theoretically,” he said, striding towards the potions classroom, “if I mix it with the catalyst ingredients for a Polyjuice Potion— along with a dash of bubotuber pus, obviously—” He pushed through the door, still babbling nonstop. “I should be able to make this blasted potion wear off before—” He broke off, suddenly looking at the door behind them. “Stand watch,” he told Theo. “In case Granger really did tail us. You never know. She and Weasley both know about that stupid cloak, she could be anywhere.” </p><p>Theo opened his mouth to retort that actually, a better plan would probably be to meet Potter like this, have a good laugh at the misbrewed potion, and wait the hour out before shagging each other senseless. But he hesitated. Interrupting Draco now would be tantamount to suicide. Besides, if Draco wanted to make his own stupid decisions, it wasn’t Theo’s place to stop him. </p><p>So Theo obediently stood guard by the classroom door, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to watch Draco mutter furiously with Weasley’s voice and give his quintessentially Draco mannerisms with Weasley’s gangly limbs. It took him a worryingly short time to break into the potions cupboard, and before five minutes passed he had a cauldron brewing on one of the empty desks. </p><p>A gaggle of Slytherin girls hurried past, not noticing Theo through the crack behind the potions door. They couldn’t be older than second-years.</p><p>“It was supposed to be his hair,” Draco said, after he’d stopped furiously muttering to himself. “I didn’t intend on—” He tugged at the mass of ginger hair on his forehead. “This.” </p><p>“And I’m assuming you couldn’t just tell him you’d cocked up the potion?” Theo guessed. He got a grunt in return, which presumably meant <em> no. </em> For a few minutes, all Theo could hear was faint bubbling and cursing. </p><p>“Yes,” Draco said at last, “got it. If this doesn’t get me a passing N.E.W.T. mark, I’ll eat Harry’s <em> pants.”  </em></p><p>Theo tried not to picture that in his mind’s eye, failed, and decided to focus his entire attention on a stone in the far wall that looked rather like a sparrow. </p><p>A minute later, Draco was standing beside him, pale blond and ashen-faced as he normally was. “Right,” he said, checking his watch giddily, “I have to go. Clean that before you leave,” he said, nodding at the still-bubbling cauldron. “And make sure not to touch the bubotuber pus with your bare hands.”</p><p>“Excuse—” Theo put a foot in front of him. “No, you can’t just leave me here with all this—”</p><p>“Can, and will,” Draco said delightedly, stepping over Theo’s foot to the corridor.</p><p>“You owe me!” Theo roared, not caring what attention he attracted. Draco would deserve it. “You’re going to buy me my own <em> Firebolt </em>after this!” </p><p>“From what I’ve heard, I’m not sure I’m legally allowed to let you handle one,” Draco called, and he jogged up the stone steps and out of sight. </p><p>It was a testament to just how much he’d been through this year that Theo looked at the cauldron and the mess of potions ingredients and thought, <em> well, this could be worse.  </em></p><hr/><p>Two hours later Theo pushed the boy’s common room door open as silently as possible. It creaked, and someone on the other side of the room shifted. Theo stepped over to his bed, trying not to trip over the array of clothes and debris that had migrated there around the second week of term and would probably remain until their last day at Hogwarts.</p><p>His socks, which he’d left strewn over his bed in a halfhearted pile, were gone. Theo panicked for a second before he realized someone— a house-elf, probably— had set them in a neat, folded pile past the foot of his bed. One look told him that he’d need to redo the pile; the first pair was a ribbed black paired with a plain.</p><p>He untucked the plain sock from the ribbed, and heard a shuffling of sheets. </p><p>“Theo, honestly,” Blaise hissed, “some of us are trying to <em> sleep.” </em></p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. In Which There Is Much Commotion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Theo had no idea how Draco managed to avoid trouble from Granger, Weasley, or Potter after turning into Weasley for a quarter of an hour, but by the end of their first day back from the holidays, none of the Gryffindors were acting out of the ordinary. Maybe their new N.E.W.T. prep work was enough to distract from the fact that Weasley had shown up the next morning for breakfast, received no gracious welcome, and acted sore for an entire hour.</p><p>Granger fully cracked in mid-May. Theo hadn’t thought she’d make it a week past the holidays, but to his and everyone’s surprise, she managed three. </p><p>“‘Mione, you saved the world,” Weasley said exasperatedly one morning, upon waking up and seeing Granger hunched over the study table, exactly where he’d left her the night before. “They’re going to give you a break.” </p><p>“I don’t want a <em> break,” </em>Granger retorted, and Weasley winced. “I want to be tested with the same expectations as anyone else. That’s the point of N.E.W.T. exams.” </p><p>“All right, all right,” Weasley said, gingerly tucking her hair out of her face. “But, don’t forget, you <em> did </em>save the world. Whatever your scores say, you’re bloody brilliant and they’ll already know that.” </p><p>Granger’s quill stilled. She kissed Weasley’s cheek. “Thanks, Ron.” </p><p>Draco wasn’t faring much better. </p><p>“This is stupid,” he said, dropping his book down and gesturing at it angrily. “Even Muggles don’t understand batteries. Why do I need to?” </p><p>Theo stared at the diagram in Draco’s book, which was covered in little plus signs, minus signs, and words like <em> cathode </em> and <em> anode </em>that reminded Theo more of his grandparents’ names than anything else. </p><p>“They have something to do with storing electricity,” Draco said, turning the page to a diagram consisting of little bubbles also marked with plus and minus signs. They looked rather like plum puddings. “But electricity isn’t supposed to be <em> tangible. </em>So I don’t understand—” </p><p>Beside them, Finch-Fletchley laughed under his breath. </p><p>“What,” Draco said flatly. Finch-Fletchley froze.</p><p>“Er—” He looked at Draco, paled, and buried his nose back in his notebook. “It’s just, batteries don’t store electricity,” he said, voice muffled. “They’ve got chemicals in them, which react. And <em> that’s </em>what makes the electricity. When the chemicals have run out, then they can’t make any more, and the battery’s dead.” He shrugged. “But that’s not what they’re going to ask about.”</p><p>“And you’ve seen the exam, have you?” Draco raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“No, but...” Finch-Fletchley closed his notebook and set it beside his parchment, keeping his eyes safely on the table. “You’re right that most Muggles don’t know how they really work. They’ll probably ask which Muggle devices actually use batteries. Like clocks and remote controls, and stuff.” </p><p>“Oh.” Draco looked back down at his book. “As opposed to…” </p><p>Finch-Fletchley stared at him.<em> “Plugs,” </em>he said, as though this were obvious. Draco merely raised an eyebrow. Finch-Fletchley sighed. “For heaven’s sake. Here.” And he handed over his notebook, eyes fixed on his parchment. “Keep it, you need it more than I do.” </p><hr/><p>By the end of May, even Potter seemed too busy to skive off. Granger had been right to chide him all those months ago, when he’d favored flying above an empty Quidditch field over doing a single homework assignment. </p><p>Theo sided with Weasley’s argument that, as he’d saved the wizarding world a few times over, it didn’t really matter what Potter’s N.E.W.T. scores were. If he wanted a position in the Ministry, or the England National Quidditch team, or hell, even Hogwarts, it would be gifted to him on a golden platter. Yet Potter could be seen every night, hunched over on the chair by the fire with a mug of coffee hovering inches away from his face and a stack of books in his lap. Perhaps he wanted to prove that he deserved whatever position he got, when it came to that. </p><p>Meanwhile, Theo still didn’t know what he really wanted to do once he finally left Hogwarts. He favored charmwork over anything else, simply because it was so practical, but there weren’t many interesting professions that specialized in charms. He doubted Professor Flitwick was going to hop the twig anytime soon, and Theo didn’t especially fancy himself as a teacher, anyway. </p><p>Ministry work held some appeal, but there were several obstacles between Theo and a steady bureaucratic job. </p><p>For one thing, the Ministry was in the process of rebuilding itself from the ground up right now, and Theo didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire of audit paperwork. Best to wait until the new management had settled in properly.</p><p>There was also the problem of his family name.</p><p>Theo’s father had been a Death Eater, after all. Specifically, his father had been one of the Death Eaters who’d broken into the Ministry and subsequently been imprisoned in Azkaban at the end of Theo’s fifth year. The <em> Nott </em>name was recognizable enough that Theo had only escaped a long, convoluted battle with the Ministry before his seventh year because of his stepfather. If it hadn’t been for the carefully penned letter detailing how Theo hadn’t contacted his father since the Easter holiday at the end of his fifth year, he might never have made it back to Hogwarts.</p><p>Theo had been lucky to have proof that he hadn’t followed in his family’s footsteps. The same couldn’t be said for Draco, or Greg, or Vincent—</p><p>Ah. Vincent. </p><p>Theo was always surprised when he forgot.</p><p>They’d never been close, but it was still an odd sensation to realize that someone he’d once known was no longer alive. Theo had lived with Vincent since they were eleven. He’d been a common fixture in Theo’s life at Hogwarts, and now he wasn’t.</p><p>Every once in a while Theo would wonder which N.E.W.T.s Vincent was taking in June, or notice his absence at Hogsmeade. And though he knew better, sometimes Theo still looked to the ceiling when the owls swept in for the morning mail, wondering whether his father would send word today.</p><p>Theo’s quill snapped in two, and he bit his tongue to keep from cursing. He was on his last set, and if he kept on like this he’d run out before their next Hogsmeade trip.</p><p><em> Perhaps Scrivenshaft’s is hiring, </em>he thought idly as he dug out a new quill and set back to work.</p><p>He cross-checked the last answer on his practice test against the answer key, and counted up his total, ignoring how the air shimmered some feet away by the fire. Potter, who had the chair to himself, absently scratched his hair and turned a page in his book. </p><p>They had a week until exams began, and after nearly a month of back-breaking work and barely a minute alone with one another, Draco and Potter had resorted to desperate measures. So now Potter took a sip of his coffee, turned another page, and absently dangled his hand off the edge of the couch. A moment later, it disappeared with a shimmer.</p><p>Theo cleared his throat, and the hand reappeared guiltily, sliding behind the chair so it couldn’t be seen. </p><p>“You feeling all right?” Blaise asked.</p><p>“Perfectly fine,” Theo said. He put his finished practice test between the pages of his Transfiguration textbook and pulled out the Potions one.</p><p>“Hm.” Blaise cast a suspicious look at the chair. “You don’t know where Draco is, do you? He was supposed to help me with this.” </p><p>“To be honest,” Theo said, “I haven’t seen him in hours.” </p><hr/><p>They trudged out of their Potions N.E.W.T. a week later, thoroughly exhausted and smelling like rotten eggs.</p><p>They’d had to choose between three different potions ranging in difficulty to brew within the allotted time. The only ones who seemed pleased with their results were Thomas and Granger, who eagerly swapped details about how their steam had been the sufficient shade of indigo, and how they’d remembered to stir counterclockwise twice every three minutes. </p><p>“I chose the easiest one,” Macmillan said as he, Theo, and Finnigan headed for the prefect’s bathrooms to shower off. “Figured I’d rather have a solid passing mark than risk tanking it completely.”</p><p>Finnigan nodded. “Same here.”</p><p>“I went for the second one,” Theo said. “I like working with roots, so I figured it’d be a safe bet.” </p><p>“Lucky,” Finnigan groaned. “I don’t like working with <em> any </em>of them. I’m just proud I didn’t blow the exam room up before time was out.” He snorted. “I singed off a bit of my eyebrow, though, look.”</p><p>They all had a good laugh over Finnigan’s missing eyebrow, which he assured them would grow back within a day, and left the showers in good spirits. Those spirits were crushed almost immediately when they remembered that they had their Transfiguration exam that evening. </p><p>Theo successfully managed to turn his footstool into a toadstool mushroom that came up to his thigh, but the spots looked suspiciously like buttons. Potter didn’t fare much better, though Theo saw the examiner give him a fond smile even as she scribbled down his score. Blaise, to Theo’s surprise, produced a brilliant purple toadstool that gave off a faintly sweet scent. He didn’t say anything about it as they made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, but his chest was puffed with pride the entire night. </p><p>The next two days’ exams were electives, with the last core exams scheduled for the following week. On the second day of electives, Theo caught Draco leaving his Muggle Studies exam with Finch-Fletchley. He ducked behind a nearby column, and watched with silent amusement as Draco handed Finch-Fletchley his notebook back with uncharacteristic gusto and proceeded to accost him about their exam all the way from the classroom to the stairs. Finch-Fletchley nearly toppled off the edge when Draco brought up the essay question about ballpoint pens.</p><p>Granger’s stress was knocked down a few pegs after she finished her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes exams, something for which they were all grateful. She actually laughed when Longbottom offered to help her study for their Herbology practical.</p><p>And then, at long last, it was Friday afternoon. The last exam was Defense Against the Dark Arts, just after lunch. This time tomorrow their exams would be over, and Theo would finally be free. Hopefully, Draco would be too. But most importantly— Theo wouldn’t have to cart around a thousand secrets, dodge Blaise’s questions, or ignore the sympathetic looks Pansy shot Theo whenever she caught him looking at Potter for more than a second.</p><p>The D.A.D.A. exam was divided into two parts: a written test and a practical obstacle course. The latter finished with an individual duel against their examiner, who introduced herself as Professor Augusta. Theo couldn’t for the life of him remember all five early symptoms of a werewolf bite, but lasted seven minutes in his duel, so he was optimistic. </p><p>He watched the others finish their one-on-one duels, joined by them once they’d finished. Potter fired away his disarming spell with alarming precision, Longbottom shielded until one of Professor Augusta’s jinxes finally rebounded off the back wall and hit him in the thigh, and Finch-Fletchley was almost immediately hit under the arm by a well-aimed <em> Rictusempra. </em>Finally Draco took the stage, adjusted his robes, and twirled his wand between his fingers. A few people sniggered, Potter included.</p><p>Professor Augusta swished her wand, firing off a body-bind curse. Draco blocked it easily, side stepping and shooting a meek <em> Stupefy </em> her way. She blocked it without having to cast the incantation, and took a few steps forward. Another body-bind, another block. Draco cast a quick <em> Incarcerous, </em>and Professor Augusta only just jumped in time to avoid the black, twisting ropes that came for her ankles. Draco took a short breath, dodging to the side of the stage. Professor Augusta circled him. His back was to the edge of the stage; she had the advantage.</p><p><em> “Locomotor—” </em>she started, thrusting her wand forward. Draco instinctively stepped back, but his foot met air. He slashed his wand through the air with a shout, and violent purple flames erupted from the tip. </p><p>They hit Professor Augusta square in the chest. Her robes exploded into flame and she shrieked, falling to the stage. Draco scrambled to get his balance, but it was too late. Several people screamed; the purple fire had already engulfed Professor Augusta from head to toe. </p><p><em> “Aguamenti!” </em> Potter bellowed, and the rest of them joined in. The water evaporated on the spot. <em> “Aguamenti!” </em>they kept shouting, but nothing was happening. </p><p>Draco held his wand up. <em> “Finite Incantatem,” </em>he said, voice trembling as violently as his hands. The flames abruptly shriveled into embers, leaving nothing but a thick cloud of smoke around Professor Augusta. She crumpled to the floor in a heap of charred robes. </p><p>Draco’s wand hit the stage with a sharp clatter. “I…” </p><p>Potter hurried to help Professor Augusta up. “Draco,” he snapped, “help me lift her. We have to take her to the hospital wing.” He was so calm that if Theo hadn’t just witnessed Professor Augusta bursting into flames a moment ago, he wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. This tracked. Potter had faced Voldemort down with a steady hand. He had more than a lifetime’s practice keeping calm under pressure.</p><p>“Right,” Draco said weakly. He bent down. Together they hefted Professor Augusta to her feet and made towards the door. “Harry,” he said, not bothering to keep his voice low in front of everyone. “I didn’t—”</p><p>“I know,” Potter said. “Come on. Levitate her so we can get her down the hall.” </p><p>Draco reached for his wand, but it was lying some feet back on the dueling stage. Granger, from across the room, cast a quick <em> Wingardium Leviosa, </em>and Professor Augusta hovered in place, her feet a few inches off the ground. The second they were gone the entire room buzzed with chatter. </p><p>“Did you see that—” </p><p>“It was <em> purple—”  </em></p><p>“—must have been cursed—” </p><p>And then, horribly, “I swear I saw a Death Eater use that exact curse—” </p><p>Theo felt sick. Blaise and Pansy caught his eye, and the three of them hurried out of the exam room. </p><p>“That was definitely cursed fire,” Blaise said, once they were out of earshot from the classroom. “I’ve seen it before. </p><p>Theo nodded. “It’s not as deadly as Fiendfyre, but it’s less difficult to cast,” he added. “So it’s better for dueling.”</p><p>Blaise and Pansy stared at him. </p><p>“Dolohov made that curse,” Theo explained, folding his arms instinctively. “My father knew him. When I was at home for Easter, the night before he left, he…” </p><p>They’d spent two hours out in the courtyard, making the marble below their feet glow purple with flames. At midnight, Theo’s father had sent him to bed. Theo had watched from the window as Dolohov took his father’s hand and they disapparated into the night. </p><p>It was the last memory Theo had of him.</p><p>He cleared his throat. “What’s going to happen to Draco?”</p><p>“Well, they won’t just kill him straight away,” Pansy said bluntly. “Augusta’s alive. And that wasn’t a centered, focused curse.” She shrugged. “Definitely not as bad as it could have been.” </p><p>Blaise looked worried. “Still bad, though.”</p><p>“Bad enough to land him in prison?” Theo asked.</p><p>“Maybe.” Blaise shrugged. “They’ll be debating which is more important: the fact that he didn’t mean to use it, or the fact that he knew it well enough to cast it nonverbally.”</p><p>Theo and Pansy winced.</p><hr/><p>The rest of the class gathered around the entrance to the hospital wing, waiting for news. After twenty minutes, Draco and Potter emerged, Potter looking worried and Draco bone-white, neither noticing they had an audience.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay,” Potter was saying. “We’ll— we’ll appeal. They all saw what happened. They know you didn’t mean to do it. It was instinct, your father—” </p><p>“That won’t matter,” Draco said, shaking his head and looking at the floor. His eyes were unfocused, glazed. “There’s a witch in the hospital wing because of me, Harry, who do you think is going to care about my <em> intentions?”  </em></p><p><em> “Me,” </em>Potter said, taking his shoulders. “And that’s got to count for something.” </p><p>“Harry,” Draco said, shoulders shaking. And Potter kissed him. </p><p>Pansy sucked in so much air at once that Theo worried she would collapse on the spot. Blaise clucked his tongue, no doubt remembering that the amended date Theo had given him was <em> tomorrow </em>. A little ways away, Weasley just stared open-mouthed and Granger, holding his arm, had tears in her eyes.</p><p>Potter pulled away, staring at Draco. “You’re not going to Azkaban,” he said. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” </p><p>“Cheers to that,” said Ernie Macmillan, stepping forward. </p><p>Both Draco and Potter froze. Potter took in the crowd with awed silence, Draco with dawning horror.</p><p>Macmillan puffed out his chest. “I’ll testify,” he said firmly. “I’m a witness, aren’t I?” He was met with stunned silence from both ends. “Come off it,” he called to the crowd. “If attacking our N.E.W.T. examiner is his idea of turning to the dark side, I don’t think even the Death Eaters would have him.” A few people laughed.</p><p>“Hear, hear!” Finnigan crowed, bounding up to stand by Macmillan. “Malfoy’s had all year to show his colors, hasn’t he? I say he’s shown them.”</p><p>Thomas joined him, clasping his shoulder. “What?” he said, to Draco’s shocked expression. “We’re done with exams. Got nothing else to do tomorrow, do we?” </p><p>“Dean,” Potter said weakly. “Seamus, Ernie..” </p><p>Pansy grabbed Theo’s and Blaise’s arms and dragged them forward. “Not that our word is much good,” she said, “but we’ll testify too.” Theo nodded and Blaise shrugged, as if to say <em> sure, why not. </em></p><p>One by one, the other eighth-years stepped forward, each giving either Draco or Potter a meaningful nod or salute. Weasley and Granger flanked Potter on either side, Finch-Fletchley stood by Macmillan, the Patil twins gave Pansy high-fives, and at last even Longbottom joined.</p><p>“I’m still mad you didn’t tell me you were pulling Malfoy,” Weasley muttered. “But if it’ll make you happy, I <em> suppose </em>I could put in a good word for him.” </p><p>Granger smacked his arm. “Ronald,” she chided, “honestly. You have absolutely no tact.” </p><p>Potter, who was either laughing or crying, hugged her. “He’s hopeless, Hermione,” he said breathlessly. Weasley gave an offended <em> hey, </em>but couldn’t keep his face straight. </p><p>Theo looked at Draco, who didn’t look back. His eyes were fixed on something a thousand miles away, through the walls and beyond the forest. His chest rose and fell with shallow, silent breaths.</p><p>Theo smiled at him. Draco didn’t so much as blink.</p><p>“It’s come to this,” he said weakly, still staring vacantly at the castle wall. “My fate, in the hands of <em> Gryffindors.” </em>He shook his head in faint disbelief. It would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.</p><p>“And Hufflepuffs,” Theo added. “And Ravenclaws.” </p><p>Draco hadn’t expected anyone to hear him, let alone answer. At Theo’s words, his clouded gaze began to focus. His eyes flicked to and fro, as if he could only now see the crowd that surrounded him. His fingers, which were threaded through Potter’s, turned white at the knuckle as Weasley clapped him hard on the shoulder. Beside him, Macmillan and Thomas were already discussing which Draco-related anecdotes to add to their testimonies, while Blaise and Pansy interjected with which ones to omit. </p><p>Theo smirked. “Plus a few Slytherins, for good measure.”</p><p>Draco let out a long, quivering breath, and Theo only realized it was actually a laugh when it ended and Draco turned to him with a smile. He clearly hadn’t meant to give one, but the damn thing wasn’t going anywhere.</p><p>“I should hope so,” he said loftily, though the effect was rather ruined by the promise of tears by the edges of his eyes. <em> “Some </em>of you ought to have some sense.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. In Which There Is Much Resolved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Ministry of Magic looked, to put it kindly, a bit shabby. </p><p>The first thing that caught Theo’s eye in the Ministry Atrium was a large, empty fountain in the middle of the room, in which a new statue was in the process of being built. From what little was there, Theo could recognize a wizard, a goblin, and two other unfinished figures all standing in a circle. The wizard and the goblin held their hands out in offering to the center, which was empty. </p><p>No one was presently working on it, as there were probably many more pressing matters to attend to than a fountain centerpiece. In the meantime it served as a convenient warning to all who entered that the Ministry was rather threadbare at the moment. </p><p>Potter led them through the Atrium, acting for all the world as if he worked there. He cut across the Ministry floor with long, important strides, nodding to a few people as he passed and ignoring the stares from the rest. And indeed several Ministry witches and wizards were staring, not just at Potter but at the whole class of eighth-years. A few of them leaned towards one another to whisper— Theo caught the words <em> Malfoy, unprecedented, </em> and <em> mental. </em>One young-looking official actually pointed at Potter when they passed her. </p><p>Potter went pink and hurried them towards the back of the Atrium. They reached a set of golden gates, behind which was a smaller hall fitted with two dozen lifts that provided transportation to the Ministry’s various floors. They couldn’t all fit into one lift, so Potter ordered them into smaller groups. He consulted his Ministry notice for a moment before instructing them to head up to the second floor, then headed for a lift himself. Granger and Weasley followed him, along with a handful of eager-looking Ministry officials. Theo caught one last glance of Potter’s scarlet face, flanked on either side by Weasley and Granger’s pity, before the lift doors closed and he was gone.</p><p>Theo, Macmillan, Finnigan, Thomas, Blaise, and Pansy headed into an empty lift. Blaise found the keypad first, and went to press the button for their floor. He hesitated, hand hovering over the golden-painted <em> 5, </em> and then pressed the number <em> 2 </em> just above it.</p><p>The doors shut and the lift jolted, sending them upwards. Theo caught Blaise’s eye and raised an eyebrow. </p><p>Blaise frowned at the keypad. “Magical Office of Law is on level five,” he explained.</p><p>“So what’s on two?” Finnigan asked. He, Macmillan, and Thomas had taken the left corner of the lift, while Theo, Blaise, and Pansy took the right. </p><p>Blaise sighed. “The Wizengamot.” </p><p>Thomas's jaw dropped. “They’re trying him with the whole Wizengamot? Are you joking?”</p><p>“Of course I’m not,” Blaise said, sounding mildly offended. “Draco was tried with the Wizengamot last summer. His case has always been high-profile.”</p><p>“Yeah, they didn’t try him like the rest of us,” Pansy added, off-handedly. This earned her three identical blank stares. </p><p>“Like the rest of who?” Finnigan asked. </p><p>Theo, Blaise, and Pansy all shared a look. It had never occurred to them that the rest of their classmates could simply <em> not know </em>about this. But that appeared to be the case, as Finnigan, Thomas, and Macmillan were all staring at them owlishly.</p><p>“Us,” Theo said at last. “The Slytherins all had to appeal to the Ministry before the start of term.”</p><p>It was only a little awkward to explain how they hadn’t been deemed important enough for in-person trials, but it was downright excruciating to admit that Potter had individually sent in written testimonies for each of them, defending their innocence and advocating for their right to return to school. Pansy absently tugged on her sleeves, Blaise clamped up at the first mention of Potter's name, and even Theo felt his ears starting to burn.</p><p>“I had no idea,” Finnigan said when they’d finished.</p><p>“Well, it’s not the most impressive thing to brag about your classmate giving you permission to come back to school,” Theo snapped. “And besides, that’s not the point.” He looked to Blaise.</p><p>“Potter actually went to Draco’s first trial in person,” Blaise explained. “It gave his testimony more weight, but also brought a lot of attention.” He let out a long breath. “Whatever happens today, it'll be on the front page of the <em> Prophet </em>tomorrow morning.” </p><p>Pansy snorted. “It also doesn’t help that the fact that they’re <em> dating </em> now has been spreading like Fiendfyre.” </p><p>That earned a weak chuckle from everyone else. The lift stopped on the second floor and they unpacked from the tiny room, reuniting with the rest of the eighth-year class. </p><p>“This way,” Potter called from the front of the pack. He led them through black-marble halls and pillars five times Theo’s height. The Ministry’s design reminded him of the dungeons at Hogwarts: cold, clean, and intimidating. Perhaps that was why so many of his Slytherin peers were considering jobs here. </p><p>Potter consulted the Ministry form once more, before stopping at an iron door that loomed above all of their heads. It looked impossible to open without a team of a dozen people. Potter checked the number beside the door, glanced back down at his form, and nodded.</p><p>“The trial’s being held by a witch called Goodwin,” he said, then knocked on the iron door. It swung open slowly and silently.</p><p>Several paper airplanes zoomed over their heads and into the capacious room, inside of which sat dozens of official-looking witches and wizards in maroon robes. They were sitting against the far wall in tiered chairs, and standing in the center of the row in front of them stood a witch, who had to be the aforementioned Goodwin. If it weren’t for the fact that she wasn’t wearing spectacles, Theo might have mistaken her for McGonagall. Her blonde hair was pulled back tight enough to hurt, and her robes looked like they’d been sewn directly onto her body and she’d never so much as moved her arms to make them wrinkle. </p><p>Bones took Macmillan’s arm. She was looking around the room with tears in her eyes.</p><p>Potter noticed this and put a hand on her shoulder. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to do this,” he told her kindly.</p><p>“No,” Bones said, shaking her head. “I’ll stay.” Potter nodded his thanks. </p><p>Draco, of course, was nowhere in sight. He’d been delivered to the Ministry early that morning to be prepared for his questioning, and Theo had watched him being carted out of sight, trembling hands and all. </p><p>“Witnesses for the Malfoy trial?” Goodwin said, looking down at them all. Potter gave an affirmative nod. “You may wait in the antechamber over there until you’re called for your testimonies,” she said, gesturing to a small door on the opposite wall.</p><p>“We don’t get to stay?” Finnigan asked, and an instant blanket of fear enveloped the group. Had he spoken out of turn? Would they all be dismissed at once? Even Potter’s legs locked, and Finnigan went pink. </p><p>“No,” Goodwin said calmly. “So as to collect the fairest narrative, we do not allow witnesses to testify in front of one another.” She glanced to her left, where a wizard was scribbling something down, his head bent so they could only see the plum trimmings of his hat. “Fetch me a rulebook, would you?” she said quietly. </p><p>The wizard stood upright at once. Weasley, Potter, and Granger all sucked in identical breaths. Judging by the shock of red hair on the wizard, Theo could only assume that he was a relative of Weasley’s. </p><p>But instead of acknowledging any of them, the red-haired wizard just nodded sharply and strode up the stairs and out a small door. </p><p>“I’ll have that sent down to you,” Goodwin said. “Feel free to peruse it while you wait. Once the trial has started, you’ll be called individually to the court to present your testimonies and answer questions from the court.” She squinted. “Except for Mr. Potter,” she said, pointing at him. </p><p>Potter froze. “I— beg your pardon?” </p><p>“Mr. Potter, you are not an impartial witness to this case,” Goodwin said plainly. “As such, your testimony cannot stand as evidence.” </p><p>Potter swallowed, but to Theo’s immense surprise and relief, he didn’t push it. The last thing they needed was for the court to hold Potter in contempt.</p><p>Granger, however, wasn’t so complacent. </p><p>“Excuse me,” she said, taking a step forward. Bold as she was to question Goodwin’s words, she still looked uncharacteristically nervous in front of the podium. “I would think that, given the circumstances, Harry’s testimony would be more important than ever,” she said, sounding a little out of breath. “I mean, if he of all people has, er...” She hesitated. “Has seen past the defendant’s flaws enough to—” She cleared her throat. “To enter a relationship. With him,” she said at last. “Then surely he offers a unique and therefore invaluable perspective?”</p><p>“With all due respect, Ms. Granger— which is a lot— we are hardly going to deify Mr. Potter within this court,” Goodwin said evenly. “He has judgements just as the rest of us, and those judgements can be clouded.” She raised an eyebrow. “As can the rest of ours.” </p><p>Granger nodded. It looked like it took her a great deal of effort not to say more.</p><p>“You may go,” Goodwin said. </p><p>Weasley lagged behind the others and had to jog to keep up, his face faintly green. They all shuffled into the antechamber, which was a windowless room that became incredibly stuffy the moment they were all inside. </p><p>The second the door shut behind them, they all began whispering to one another. Everyone kept their voice low, as if there were someone watching them who might tell them off for being too loud. Granger began muttering to Weasley about whatever it was she’d wanted to say to Goodwin. Weasley interjected every few words with a <em> good point </em> or a <em> you’re right.  </em></p><p>Even Potter was quiet. He sat alone by the fireplace, balling his right hand into a fist over and over.</p><p>Theo sat beside him and waited. And sure enough, after less than a minute—</p><p>“I thought this would be easier,” Potter said softly. His penchant for the dramatics clearly applied to quiet situations, too.</p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>Potter shrugged. “Draco spent the whole year pretending not to care about what happens today, and I’d been worried to death about it. Now he’s terrified, and I’m supposed to be the brave one, except I can’t.” He balled his hand into a fist on his knee. “I can’t do anything.”</p><p>Theo wasn’t one for blind hopes. He settled on the best reassurance he could give. “Draco’s not his father,” he said simply. “He’d survive, you know.” He smiled. “Especially if he’s got you to live for.”</p><p>“Buttering me up, Nott?” Potter raised an eyebrow. “You know you can’t blackmail me anymore.” </p><p>“It’s called caring,” Theo said. </p><p>“I wasn’t aware Slytherins knew how to do that.” </p><p>“And yet you’re dating one?” Theo smirked. “You have awful taste, Potter.” </p><p>The fireplace <em> whooshed </em>to life, and Weasley’s kin appeared, holding a thickly bound book. He didn’t meet Weasley’s eyes. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “Wizengamot court rules, edition seven-point-oh-four, current as of last fortnight.” </p><p>Potter stood at once, took the book, and handed it to Weasley without even reading the cover. “Percy,” he said. “You’ve got to tell them I can speak.” </p><p>“Out of the question,” Percy Weasley said stiffly.</p><p>“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Potter pleaded. “Percy, <em> please.”  </em></p><p>Percy’s lips thinned. His eyes flicked to the crowd of eighth-years for a microsecond before landing back on Potter. “You heard Goodwin,” was all he said.</p><p>Weasley gave his brother a contemptuous look before turning to Potter and patting his shoulder. “It’s no use. Don’t start a fight, yeah?”</p><p>Granger gently touched Potter’s arm. “Think about it. Even even if your account wasn’t biased, their view of it would be.”</p><p>“But,” Potter said again, and chewed his lip. He was evidently running out of steam. </p><p>Sensing the dispute was over, Percy grabbed a handful of floo powder from a dish fastened to the wall beside the fireplace and threw it at his feet. Brilliant green flames sprung up to his waist.  He met Weasley’s eyes for another fraction of a second, dug his heels into the coals, and—</p><p>“Wait!” Blaise barked. </p><p>Percy froze mid-twist. He fixed Blaise with a razor-sharp glare, wordlessly warning him to tread carefully. </p><p>Blaise cleared his throat. “Potter could serve as the Witness for the defense.” </p><p>Potter blinked. And then his face split open into a wide, manic smile. “Zabini, you’re a genius,” he breathed, and rounded on Percy with sudden hopeful energy. “They can’t object to that. Dumbledore was my defense Witness once, remember? You were there.”</p><p>“Yes,” Percy said awkwardly. “But—”</p><p>“And he wasn’t impartial,” Potter added. “Fudge knew that, and he still let Dumbledore speak for me.”</p><p>Percy looked between Potter and the fireplace, weighing his options. On one hand, a last-minute defense Witness was unconventional. But he also had to know that denying Potter was a dangerous move. </p><p>“All right,” Percy said at last. He offered his hand to Potter and pulled him into the grate. “But if they won’t let you speak, you <em> have </em>to comply, understood?”</p><p>Potter nodded. “Of course.”</p><p>And with another <em>whoosh </em>and a rush of green flames, the two of them vanished.</p><p>For a moment they all stared at the empty grate. And then Weasley sank into a chair, his head in his hands. “We’re fucked,” he groaned. </p><p>“Ronald,” Granger muttered. “You don’t know that. This might work.” </p><p>“Harry’s got an inch, he’s going to take a mile,” Weasley insisted. “And besides that, <em> Percy </em>is one of the Interrogators. The only version of Malfoy he’s ever known was the old one. You know, the pompous, stuck-up prat who threatened to sic his daddy on us if we didn’t lick his boots?”</p><p>In Theo’s opinion, Draco was still pompous, stuck-up, and a prat— more so now than ever— but it didn’t seem like the right time to point this out. </p><p>“Ron,” Granger said gingerly, “be sensible. Even if Percy vouches against him, that’s just one person. There’s forty-seven of them out there; Malfoy’s still got a chance.”</p><p>She took the rulebook from Weasley and began to read it, taking a seat beside him. Theo took that as his cue to stop paying attention, and went to find Blaise and Pansy. They were talking to one another in a corner alongside Finnigan and Thomas, and Theo sat down beside them. </p><p>“Well?” he said, looking at them all. “What’s the plan?” </p><p>“No plan,” Thomas said firmly. “We tell the truth. That’s all we can do.” </p><p>“Rubbish,” Pansy said. “There’s more to it than that.” </p><p>“There shouldn’t be,” Thomas argued, folding his arms. “That’s the point of a fair trial.” </p><p>Blaise clicked his tongue dismissively. “They’re not going to give him a fair trial. If we play by their rules, we won’t win.” </p><p>Finnigan shrugged. “You don’t know that for sure. From what I hear, the Ministry’s gone through a total overhaul. Half the people on that board are new. The overseer, Goodwin? She’s Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement now, and she wasn’t even with the Ministry until this year.” </p><p>“All right,” Blaise conceded, “but that still doesn’t change the fact that they’re going to be biased. Draco’s father went to Azkaban for admitting he’d been housing the Dark Lord—” </p><p>“Voldemort,” Finnigan muttered.</p><p>“—so he’s not exactly starting out on a good note,” Blaise finished. They all considered this.</p><p>Theo watched the rest of the room. Everyone had broken off into groups. Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley were comforting Bones, the Patil twins were sitting silently together, and Longbottom stood by himself against the side wall, looking down at the floor. Finnigan, Blaise, and Thomas had all begun discussing Goodwin’s past politics. Blaise was adamant they would find some trick to earn her favor, while Thomas argued that was vaguely immoral.</p><p>If Theo closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was sitting in the South Tower, listening to everyone study for exams. Thomas and Finnigan were the two loudest voices in the room, Longbottom hadn’t said a word, and Blaise and Pansy kept breaking off to talk to one another before inserting themselves back into the general discussion. Granger was loudly turning pages, while Weasley muttered questions over her shoulder.</p><p>But even the familiarity of his peers couldn’t soothe Theo’s growing anxiety. It was rather pointless to worry, but Theo did nonetheless.</p><p>Of course Draco’s family would be called into question. And that meant Theo’s would, too. Their fathers had worked together throughout the war, and Theo had met Lucius several times. It wouldn’t matter that Theo hadn’t seen his father since the end of fifth year, it would matter that he carried his father’s name. And whatever he said about Draco would be tainted by that association. </p><p>What was the right play? Should he feed into their assumptions? He could put on a show of turning up his nose at the idea that Draco, who came from <em> such </em>an upstanding bloodline, had fallen for a Mudblood and blood-traitor sympathizer. Surely they’d take it as a sign of integrity that Nott’s son, of all people, had denounced him. </p><p>Or perhaps he should listen to Thomas and stick with the truth, despite how far-fetched it sounded when he put it to words.</p><p>Theo didn’t have long to ponder this, because at that exact moment something crashed boisterously against the right wall. The underlying conversation faded at once, several people yelped, and before Theo saw her move at all, Granger had her wand in her hand. </p><p>There must be another antechamber connected to the courtroom, and Theo wondered why they’d shoved all of the eighth-years into this single, tiny room instead of spreading them out.</p><p>Muffled voices shouted from behind the wall, there were another few thumps, and then a door slammed firmly. The voices dimmed, and so did the banging. They heard muffled clinking, and Theo’s first impression was of iron chains being adjusted. </p><p>Weasley and Granger’s faces had gone the color of porridge. They looked at each other with mounting horror, Granger’s fingers white-knuckled around her wand. </p><p>“What in Merlin’s name was that?” Macmillan asked, staring at the wall as if he could see through it if he tried hard enough.</p><p>Weasley took a deep breath. “We’re not the only witnesses.” </p><hr/><p>They waited for what felt like an hour, until at last they heard a hush fall outside the door to the courtroom.</p><p>It was impossible to hear what any of them were saying, or even identify who was talking. Theo suspected the antechamber was enchanted to prevent witnesses from overhearing one another or listening in on the defendant’s plea. </p><p>After another impossibly long wait, the door to the antechamber opened. Percy Weasley stood between them and the courtroom, looking expectantly at them. Theo tried to look over his shoulder, but Draco was out of their range of vision.</p><p>“Who’s first?” Percy asked, sounding very prim. “Come on, step forward.” </p><p>Finnigan, Thomas, and Macmillan all stood up together. Percy sighed. </p><p>“Only one of you,” he said. “Don’t make me tell you again.” He looked at Macmillan. “You. Come on.” </p><p>Macmillan had been the first to suggest giving testimony, back outside the hospital wing. And now he was one of the first to stand. But faced with the reality of stepping in front of the Wizengamot and being interrogated, he now looked like he’d much rather turn tail and head home. </p><p>Finnigan shoved him, and he shuffled out of the room behind the elder Weasley. The door shut behind them, and they were left in silence once more. </p><p>Macmillan returned ten minutes later, with Percy in tow. </p><p>“How was it?” Finnigan asked eagerly, but Macmillan shook his head. </p><p>“No discussing,” Percy said testily. “Next. Hurry up.” </p><p>Finnigan went, then Thomas, then Bones. One by one they left for just enough time to grow concern, and returned with their lips clamped shut, refusing to speak. Eventually Blaise left, Pansy went after him, and then Theo was the only one left.</p><p>Theo stood as Pansy returned, and tried to pat her on the shoulder. Percy swatted his arm away. “You next,” he said, tugging Theo along. </p><p>He was pulled into the courtroom, which looked somehow bigger and more imposing now that the trial was actually in session. Theo looked around the room and saw Draco, sitting in a worn-looking wooden chair. Draco met his eye and gave a weak smile. Theo had to hope that meant things were going relatively well.</p><p>Potter, who stood two feet from Draco’s chair, had stiff arms and locked legs. <em> On the offense when attacked, </em>Theo remembered. Potter didn’t take his eyes off Goodwin as Percy led Theo to a small elevated platform. Theo stuck his hands in his pockets, not sure what else to do with them. </p><p>“Full name?” Goodwin said crisply from the podium. </p><p>“Theodore Borr Nott,” Theo said. </p><p>Goodwin showed no response to this, not even an affirmative nod. She just continued on, ignoring how Percy bounded up the stairs to join the other Interrogators. </p><p>“Mr. Nott,” Goodwin said. “You stand before the Wizengamot today to testify as a witness in Mr. Malfoy’s trial, regarding his parole served at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the past year. Should you wish to consume <em> Veritaserum, </em>a vial will be provided for you.” She looked to Percy, who nodded importantly, then back at Theo. “Do you swear upon Ulick Gamp and the memory of the Wizard’s Council to speak the full truth as you know it today?”</p><p>“I do,” Theo said, heart pounding. “Yes.”</p><p>Goodwin didn’t so much as blink, and for a moment Theo wasn’t sure she had heard him. But then she spoke again. “Mr. Nott, what is your relationship with Mr. Malfoy?” </p><p>Theo took a slow breath. The expectant silence rang in his ears. “I lived in the Slytherin boy’s dormitory with him for our first six years at Hogwarts,” he said. “And I lived in the eighth-year dormitory with him this year.”</p><p>Goodwin looked down at her podium for a fraction of a second, then turned her attention back to Theo. “Please describe for us what transpired during your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. exam yesterday.”</p><p>Theo told her. He was certain the rest of them had done the same, but he took care to mention that Draco had been falling while he’d cast the spell, and had neither pronounced the curse nor aimed his wand properly. </p><p>“It wasn’t concentrated,” he finished firmly. “If he’d cast it with the intent to harm, Professor Augusta would be in St. Mungo’s by now, if not worse.”</p><p>“And how do you know that?” demanded a skinny wizard from the very back row. He wore bright green glasses that clashed awfully with his maroon Wizengamot robes.</p><p>Theo’s stomach gave a funny jolt. “I recognized the spell,” he admitted. </p><p>Several Wizengamot members chittered. Goodwin blinked. “Elaborate for us, Mr. Nott?” </p><p>“Er,” Theo said. “It was created by a Death Eater named Antonin Dolohov.” Silence met his words, and his heart began to pound. He’d prepared himself for this, but standing in front of a prefect bathroom mirror and standing in front of forty Wizengamot members were two different things. “My father was a Death Eater,” he continued. “During the Easter holiday at my fifth year at Hogwarts, he made Dolohov teach it to me.”</p><p>“I see,” Goodwin said. “And your father was involved with Mr. Dolohov and the rest of the Death Eaters who broke into the Ministry of Magic in 1996?”</p><p>Potter cleared his throat loudly. “Madam Goodwin, what does that have to do with Draco’s case?”</p><p>Goodwin considered him for a long second before nodding. “Mr. Nott,” she said, turning back to Theo. “Please describe this curse.” </p><p>Theo did, as best he could. Dolohov hadn’t explained the finer points in much detail, but it was easy enough to understand that the curse itself was incredibly lethal and inflicted deadly pain from its victims’ insides, despite the outwardly appearance of cold, purple fire. </p><p>He didn’t mention that Dolohov had trained him to cast it at the family of rabbits that lived in burrows under the courtyard. </p><p>When he finished, his hands had migrated to his pockets and several Wizengamot members were horror-struck. A few others looked grimly resigned, and fewer still were muttering to each other, looking down at Theo through narrowed eyes. Even Potter looked faintly ill. Draco’s eyes were fixed on his shoes, his breath coming in slow, carefully controlled breaths. </p><p>“I see,” Goodwin said at last. “So we may take it as fact that you and Mr. Malfoy both know this spell due to your affiliation with the Death Eaters.”</p><p>Potter cleared his throat again. “Nott was never a Death Eater.” He looked at Theo. “You weren’t, right?” </p><p>Theo shook his head. “No.” He pushed his left sleeve up, showing his bare arm first to Potter, then to the court. </p><p>Goodwin eyed his arm silently, then turned to Potter. “If you would?” </p><p>Jaw set, Potter tugged Draco’s sleeve back, revealing his faded tattoo. Theo couldn’t help but stare. He hadn’t seen a Dark Mark since last year, and Draco’s looked nothing like the ones he remembered. The snake was still and dull, rather than fluid and glistening.</p><p>Draco didn’t even look at it. His blank, exhausted eyes stayed fixed on the floor by his feet. Potter let go of Draco’s sleeve, and Theo let go of his own. </p><p>Potter’s jaw unclenched. “He was forced—”</p><p>“As we have established,” Goodwin said, with a note of irritation. “Moving on. Regardless of whether or not he cast it with intent to harm, Mr. Malfoy had sufficient knowledge and practice of this curse to cast it both instinctively and nonverbally,” she said. “Mr. Nott, do you refute this statement?” </p><p>The Wizengamot had already made up their minds. If Theo didn’t say anything, he’d be agreeing with what they’d decided: Draco was a Death Eater and always would be. But Goodwin’s specific words weren’t wrong, and there was nothing Theo could say to disprove her. </p><p>“No, I don’t,” he said slowly, trying not to let his frustration show. “But it’s not like he’s spent the last year cursing anyone who walks in his path,” he added quickly. “He and Granger still don’t get along, but he never so much as hexed her.” Theo wasn’t totally sure about that last point, but he tried not to let that show either.</p><p>Potter stood up a little straighter. “Nott’s right,” he added. “And besides, this trial isn’t just about one day. It’s about the whole year. And—” He broke off suddenly, his eyes lighting up with what Theo could only describe as sheer, reckless hope. “And Nott’s been helping us, <em> the whole year.”  </em></p><p>“Helping you?” piped up the wizard from the back row. He adjusted his lime-green glasses. “With what, precisely?”</p><p>Theo grit his teeth, hoping this would imply that perhaps bringing up the fact that Draco had been blackmailing him since November wasn’t the greatest idea. </p><p>Potter ignored him completely. “With,” he began, but Goodwin raised a hand, cutting him off swiftly. </p><p>“Mr. Potter, if I need to remind you once more that you are acting as Witness to the defense, not providing a witness testimony...” she warned.</p><p>Potter snapped his mouth shut and instead turned to Theo. He was on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with suspense, desperately trying to tell Theo a twelve-roll essay with his eyes. </p><p>“Mr. Nott, if you could please elaborate on Mr. Potter’s point?” Goodwin asked. “If not, your testimony shall end here.” </p><p>“Yes, I can,” Theo said quickly, before she could interpret his silence as an answer. </p><p>He thought back to the beginning of their eighth year and began sifting through the memories, searching for anything that might stand out as a testament to Draco’s change of character. But nothing seemed to fit. </p><p>Theo had seen Draco chatting with Finnigan once or twice, and the fact that he was shagging Potter on the down low would certainly push towards the <em> not-a-Death-Eater </em>label they were going for, but neither of those would really count as noteworthy events on their own. Draco had quietly and privately talked to those he’d wronged. He’d settled into the background of the eighth-year class, eating and sleeping and working alongside the rest of them without causing a fuss. There was no single moment of change, which meant Theo couldn’t just regale the court with a tale of some grand gesture of charity. </p><p>Someone coughed, and Theo looked up. He had to lock his legs to keep from losing his balance; all forty-seven Wizengamot members were staring at him in expectant silence. His palms slick with sweat in his pockets, Theo fixed his gaze on Goodwin’s podium and tried to think. </p><p>Even though Draco had spent the year making Theo clean up his Polyjuice Potions, come up with excuses on the fly, and keep a room full of eighth-years distracted enough to escape with Potter in tow, he hadn’t done it because he’d wanted to make Theo’s life miserable. He’d slowly but surely earned Potter’s trust well enough to produce an honest-to-Merlin relationship, and he’d tested Theo’s patience all year because for once in his life he’d found actual happiness, untainted by threats or power.</p><p>Theo took a deep breath and looked Goodwin straight in the eye. </p><p>“By now, most people probably think it started at Easter,” he said. “Some of us wagered as far back as Halloween. I don't know when it really began, but I know I first saw it on a dark, stormy winter morning."</p><hr/><p>“Remember,” Percy Weasley said, and Theo realized he must have said this a dozen times already, but he didn’t sound bored in the slightest. “No talking about your testimony to anyone in the room." </p><p>Theo fell into the chair beside Pansy, who gave him an exhausted yet happy look. </p><p>“Right,” Percy said importantly, surveying them all. </p><p>He had a very bossy personality. Theo wondered what it must have been like to grow up with him as an older brother. Weasley had testified somewhere in the middle, and had nearly been found in contempt of court when he’d tried to talk to his brother. Granger had been a bit smarter about it, not even acknowledging Percy as she made her way out the door.</p><p>“That’s all of you, yes?” Percy Weasley said. “I’ll be back when it’s time—”</p><p>“Wait,” said a small voice. Justin Finch-Fletchley emerged from a shadowy corner, standing up straight. “I haven’t gone yet.”</p><p>Percy Weasley paused, then jerked his head to the door. “All right, then,” he said. “Off you go, come on.” </p><p>They watched Finch-Fletchley go, and waited with baited breath for his return. Most of them had only been gone for ten minutes or so. Weasley had been out for fifteen and Granger for twenty. Finch-Fletchley returned thirty-two minutes later, looking exhausted but triumphant.</p><p>“They were surprised he knew what a vacuum cleaner was,” he muttered as he passed by Theo.</p><p>“No talking,” Percy Weasley snapped. <em> “That’s </em>all of you, yes?”</p><p>“Except me,” Potter said, appearing behind him. “Percy—”</p><p>“Harry,” Percy Weasley warned. “Don’t.” </p><p>“But—”</p><p>“He’ll have a better chance if you comply,” Percy said, voice tight. He looked at the wall as he said it, as if he were breaking a code of honor by saying anything at all. “I’ll be back as soon as we’re done with the witness testimonies,” he said at last. </p><p>“But we’re done,” Weasley said, “that was all of us.” </p><p>Percy looked over his shoulder. “There’s one more,” he said. “But once Goyle’s finished, that’ll be it. Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.” </p><p>And he slipped out the door before they could ask him anything else, leaving an ashen-faced Potter behind.</p><p>“Goyle?” Finnigan said blankly. “Gregory Goyle?” He looked at Potter. “But isn’t he in Azkaban?”</p><p>“They brought him here to testify again,” Potter said weakly. He looked at the wall, behind which they’d heard bangs and shouts hours before. </p><p>“Again?” Thomas asked. </p><p>Potter sighed. “They tried Draco, his father, mother, and Goyle last year. Narcissa was let off for saving my life, Draco was given parole because he was underage for most of his charges and he had some evidence that his involvement after he turned seventeen wasn’t voluntary. His father pleaded guilty and didn’t offer any more information, but…” He looked away. “Goyle testified against Draco in exchange for a shorter sentence.”</p><p>“How long’s he got?” Finnigan asked, eyes wide. </p><p>“Ten years, I think,” Potter said. “It was going to be twenty.” He swallowed thickly. “He brought up the mess that happened in sixth-year, with the cabinet and the Death Eaters in the castle, and how it had all led to Dumbledore’s death. If it weren’t for the fact that I was there, and I saw what actually happened—” He shook his head. “I gave them some of Snape’s memories as added proof that Dumbledore was in control of everything and Draco had never put him in any actual danger. People were hurt, but he was underage at the time, and his mother testified that he’d had to be forced to do it. They let him off with an easy sentence, but it was close.” </p><p>Theo had heard the general story of what had happened over the last few years, but it was still hard to believe. Dumbledore, crackpot that he had been, had kept more secrets than Theo ever could have imagined.</p><p>“And now what?” Blaise said, looking at the door. </p><p>“Now?” Potter sighed. “I don’t know. They’re probably going to offer Goyle another few years off his sentence if he gives them information against Draco.” He chewed his bottom lip, looking at the door. “It won’t matter if I’m there or not. They can’t give him <em> Veritaserum </em>unless he consents, which is pretty damn unlikely, so I doubt a word of what he says will be true.”</p><p>“Well, we’re just going to have to hope that they consider that he might lie in order to get a better sentence,” Theo said. “That’s not so hard to believe, right?”</p><p>All they could do was wait. They heard muffled voices behind the door, but no distinguishable words. After some time, the voices amplified into shouts, and Theo heard a repeated banging. He imagined it had to be Goodwin smacking her gavel, and hoped it was the result of Goyle acting out of line. The more unruly he was, the better Draco’s luck would be.</p><p>Since they’d all spoken, they were free to discuss their testimonies. Most of them had received more or less the same questions about Draco’s past involvement with the Death Eaters and the recent curse. Blaise and Pansy had both talked about Draco’s first few years at Hogwarts, and Theo wanted to kick himself for not doing the same. Granger had, of course, prepared a monologue of her own, which had been cut slightly short when one of the Wizengamot members had politely asked her to get to the point because he was starting to doze off. </p><p>None of them mentioned just how small Draco had looked in that chair.</p><p>“It’s enchanted, you know,” Finnigan told Macmillan. “Y’can’t move or anything, you just have to sit there and answer whatever they ask you.”</p><p>“It sounds horrible,” Macmillan said, wrinkling his nose. “How’re you supposed to keep a clear head like that?” </p><p>“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Finnigan pressed. “You’re not supposed to.” </p><p>“Did you hear Perce, though?” Weasley was telling Granger. “He wants Malfoy to get off, I can’t believe it. He mentioned he was picked for a big project when I saw him over Easter, but I didn’t realize he meant <em> this. </em> D’you think he would have told me if he knew I’d be involved?”</p><p>“Ron, of course not,” Granger said, as though this was obvious. To be fair, Theo thought, it was a bit. “You saw him. He wasn’t supposed to show a shred of bias, and he risked that by letting Harry act as defense Witness.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Weasley said thoughtfully. “Man. Perce in the Wizengamot. Mum’s going to throw him a parade when we get home.” </p><p>“If Malfoy gets off, he’ll deserve it,” Granger said. </p><p>Something outside the door exploded. </p><p>The chairs all slid back a good few inches from the courtroom door, shaking so hard that several people leapt to their feet to keep from falling. Finnigan didn’t stand in time, and landed squarely in Thomas’s lap. Macmillan helped him up as they all stared at the door. </p><p>“Harry, <em> no—” </em>Granger called, but it was too late. Potter had reached the door and yanked it open, plunging his free hand into his robe pocket for his wand.</p><p>“—a Mudblood sympathizer, let alone a fucking <em> sod—” </em></p><p>Gregory Goyle was standing in the middle of the room with a wand in each hand. One was Draco’s, and the other Theo didn’t recognize, but he knew in an instant that it wasn’t Goyle’s. It was thin and spindly, and looked wildly out of place in Goyle’s fist. Even after a year in Azkaban, his hands were still twice as big as Theo’s, his shoulders broad and dangerous. His hair had grown past his eyes and looked grimy and matted, and his eyes were just as small and beady as they always had been— except now they were lined and sunken, as if he’d aged a hundred years. </p><p>Theo couldn’t help but remember how they’d met in their first year, bonding over their very first feast and marveling at the multitudes of cakes, pies, and pastries. Goyle had taken a plate back to their dorm that night, and had only agreed to share with Draco and Crabbe, not giving Theo so much as a second glance. Somewhere between the feast and that night, they’d formed their little gang, and never looked back. </p><p>Draco, still bound by enchantment to the well-worn wooden chair, had his head pressed to the back, trying to get as far away from Goyle as he possibly could. Goodwin was holding her empty palms up, standing defensively behind the podium. The forty-seven Wizengamot members were frozen in place too. Theo didn’t doubt they had their wands, unlike Goodwin, but they wouldn’t chance startling Goyle.</p><p>He’d blasted a small crater in the floor, the iron chains that had bound his hands lying in a charred heap at his feet. He must have summoned Draco’s and Goodwin’s wands nonverbally. How long had he known he’d be coming here? Goyle had never struck Theo as someone with the skill for wandless magic. He imagined Goyle sitting in his cell, practicing the incantation, summoning dead flies and rats until he could catch them in midair. </p><p>But Goyle evidently hadn’t expected the witness antechamber door to open, because it took him a long second to turn at the sound. </p><p><em> “Reducto!” </em> Potter bellowed. The spell hit Goyle straight in the chest, blasting him off his feet. He toppled to the ground with a dull <em> thud, </em>and the two wands fell from his slack, fat hands, rolling several feet away in either direction.</p><p>Theo bent down and tugged his own wand from his shoe.</p><p>“Accio,” he muttered quickly. He caught the two wands— he nearly dropped Goodwin’s, but grabbed it before it could hit the ground again and make a sound— and hid them both in his robe pocket, along with his own. Once Goyle got up, he was likely to try his summoning trick again. But out of all of them, he wouldn’t expect Theo to be the one abetting Potter. </p><p>Blaise stood in front of him, touching their shoulders together briefly in a silent signal. He’d seen. </p><p>The Wizengamot members all had their wands out, now that Goyle was disarmed, but they really needn’t have bothered. Potter had it covered. </p><p>He was standing over Goyle with his wand to Goyle’s chest, red sparks shooting out of the tip at random. His hair was sticking out in every direction, his eyes were startlingly wide, and he was breathing in quick, shallow bursts. <em> So much for calm under pressure. </em></p><p>Draco had a slightly different train of thought, as he was staring at Potter with what could only be described as besotted awe. Theo was almost tempted to call it cute.</p><p>Goyle’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession as he glared up at Potter with pure hatred. He sucked in a sharp breath, and the wands in Theo’s pocket twitched violently. Theo slammed a hand over his robe pocket to keep them from flying out. </p><p>Potter reached down, grabbed Goyle’s collar, and pressed the tip of his wand to Goyle’s throat.</p><p>Goyle put his hands up in weak surrender, arms shaking with the effort. Theo winced when he caught sight of the blast mark Potter’s first spell had left on Goyle’s chest.</p><p>“Mr. Potter, I believe that will do,” Goodwin said. Her voice was nearly as rigid as her robes, but it sounded a bit shaken compared to the firm tone she’d used throughout the witness testimonies. She turned to the Wizengamot members behind her. “If you wouldn’t mind restraining him properly?” </p><p>Ten of them leapt from their chairs and hurried down to the ground level. Within minutes they had Goyle’s arms bound tightly, his hands locked in a knot that looked impossible to untie without magic, and his mouth fixed with a silencing charm. </p><p>Theo headed to the podium and handed Goodwin her wand, which she accepted gratefully. </p><p>“Well,” she said brightly, addressing the Wizengamot again. “I believe we’ve heard quite enough, are you all in agreement?” There was a general chorus of <em> yes, </em>along with a few nervous laughs. “Good,” she said. “The witnesses are now dismissed.” At the group of Wizengamot members that were holding Goyle in place, she said, “Escort Mr. Goyle out of here, please. And do make it quick, we’ll need your votes for the verdict.”</p><p>Goyle was hauled out of the room, and Percy Weasley ushered the eighth-years outside after him. </p><p>“We’ll talk later,” he said under his breath, as Weasley tried once again to start a conversation. “They’ll send me out to tell you when it’s over. Now <em> go.” </em>He shoved Weasley and the rest of them out, and closed the door behind them. </p><p>They stood in the cold marble halls, suddenly missing the musty, cramped windowless antechamber they’d been confined to mere minutes ago. The iron door towered over them, intimidating and unmoving. After a few minutes the group of Wizengamot members returned. A couple of them gave Potter a polite nod as they passed, squeezing between the doors to rejoin the courtroom. Theo tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside, but all he could see was the very front of the chair, and Draco’s legs hanging off the end. </p><p>Potter looked like he was going to throw up. </p><p>Theo felt the extra weight of Draco’s wand in his pocket, and walked over to Potter. He pulled it out and held it. “Here,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t be the one keeping guard over this.” </p><p>Potter took the wand carefully, like he was cradling a newborn. Theo resisted the urge to judge him for this particular show of theatrics. He was facing the possibility of this wand being the only thing to comfort him for five long years. A little dramatism was acceptable. </p><p>“Thank you, Nott,” Potter said. “Not just for this, but. For all you’ve done for us this year.” </p><p>Blaise, who had been standing silent guard behind Theo while he still carried the extra wand, made a strangled sort of sound in his throat. Theo ignored this. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said, “of course. Sorry it didn’t matter in the end, though.” </p><p>“Of course it mattered.” Potter smiled at the wand. “Someone knew.”</p><p>“A lot of people knew,” Theo said.</p><p>“Everyone knew,” Blaise said, clearly having caught on. “I wasn’t aware <em> you </em>knew, though.” </p><p>“Wait,” Pansy said, materializing beside Theo. “You knew about the bet?” she demanded at Potter.</p><p>“We might have squeezed it out of Nott,” Potter said. “Sorry.” He shot a look at Weasley and Granger. “I’m a little offended that you put money on me, Ron, but I’m <em> astounded </em>that Hermione did, too.”</p><p>“We might have squeezed it out of them,” Blaise said, making Weasley snort. “You know what this means, Theo,” he added, with an air of sadness that Theo didn’t believe for a second. “You broke the contract, so I’m afraid the pool goes to the bet writing team. Which consists of…” He broke off, pretending to think. “Me.” </p><p>“Actually,” Granger interjected, “Nott didn’t break the contract.” Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Weasley, and Potter all stared at her. “What?” she said. “Of course I got a copy of it the moment Ron put real money down. What do you take me for, Harry, Mundungus Fletcher?” </p><p>Theo had no idea who this was, but he could guess enough through context.</p><p>“Anyway, Zabini,” Granger went on, “your contract only prohibits two things. One is overlapping dates and times, and I assume Theo didn’t do that, or else you’d have disqualified him ages ago. The second is…” She screwed up her face, remembering the exact wording. “Forcing, coercing, or otherwise influencing the concerned parties— Harry and Malfoy— into divulging pertinent information, through action or lack thereof,” she recited proudly. </p><p>“But of course he—” Blaise scoffed. “He told them about the whole thing!” </p><p>“But did he specifically force, coerce, or influence them to come clean?” Granger asked shrewdly.</p><p>Theo raised an eyebrow. “If anything, I was doing the opposite. And there’s nothing in the contract against that.” </p><p>“Which means he won, fair and square,” Granger said, and cocked her head. “At least, according to your rules. They really weren’t that thought-through, you know. I’d have added at least three more addendums.” </p><p>“I—” Blaise sputtered, “but—”</p><p>“Welcome to my world,” Weasley said, yawning. “Merlin, I’m tired. It’s not that late, is it?”</p><p>Potter checked his watch. “It’s barely four.” </p><p>“Oh.” Weasley leaned back, trying to crack his spine. “All this Ministry stuff is exhausting. ‘Mione, you didn’t bring any Pepper-Up, did you?” </p><p>“Let me check,” Granger said, pulling out a handbag from absolutely nowhere. She rummaged in it for a solid minute. “Sorry,” she said at last. “You’ll just have to make do like the rest of us.” </p><p>“Torture,” Weasley groaned. </p><p>“This isn’t over,” Blaise muttered in Theo’s ear, and stalked away with Pansy. </p><p>Eventually the buzz of anticipation faded away. No one had come to the door by half an hour, and by forty minutes most of them had retreated to the walls to either lean or sit. Potter sat with his legs folded and his head on his knees, and like the others, Theo decided to give him some space.</p><p>“Some day, huh?” Macmillan said from right beside him, making Theo jump. “Hard to believe we were eating breakfast in the castle this morning.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Theo said wistfully, remembering his breakfast. He’d overslept, and had just enough time to wolf down a bowl of porridge and snatch a coconut cream profiterole before he’d been whisked away by the arm, forced to leave it on the table, abandoned, neglected—</p><p>“You all right?” Macmillan said. </p><p>“Yeah,” Theo said again, shaking his head. “Just— thinking." He smiled sadly. “By the way, I didn’t get the chance to thank you for standing up yesterday.” </p><p>Macmillan shrugged. “He didn’t mean to curse her.” He looked away. “And. You know. He deserves his freedom, and all that.” </p><p>“Not everyone would say that,” Theo said. Macmillan didn’t argue. “I’ve known Draco since we were in our first year,” Theo continued. “It’s hard to know someone for that long and not think they deserve a second chance.” He looked at Macmillan. “But you didn’t know him at all.” </p><p>“I didn’t know you, and now I do,” Macmillan said. “I figured it was probably the same.” </p><p>Theo smiled. “Oh,” he said, snapping his fingers as he remembered. “I never asked. Did Finnigan or Thomas ever find anyone else?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“For you,” Theo clarified. “To. You know.” He cleared his throat. “Date.” </p><p>“Oh,” Macmillan said. “Er, no, but that’s all right. There’s more to Hogwarts than dating.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Theo said, watching the lot of them talk, whisper, and laugh. “I suppose there is.” </p><p>“Shame, though,” Macmillan added after a moment, “I’d have liked to say I’d been one of those troublemakers who got caught messing around in classrooms after hours, made to scrub hospital-wing bedpans as punishment.” He sighed wistfully. “It sounds so romantic.” </p><hr/><p>Nearly an hour had passed before they finally heard footsteps approach from behind the gigantic iron doors. Heads shot up one by one, and Potter fell over in a heap of robes. Weasley and Granger tried to help him up, but he threw them off, scrambling to his feet. </p><p>Percy Weasley emerged, scanned the lot of them, and found Potter, who nearly tripped over his feet again to meet him at the doorway. </p><p>“Well?” Potter said, looking desperately at the door. “What’s happened? Have they let him off?”</p><p>Percy toed the door open a little further with his foot, and Draco emerged. </p><p>For a moment they just stared at each other, Potter frazzled and disheveled, Draco exhausted and thin. Even Draco’s breaths were labored. He’d only been in the Ministry’s hands since this morning, and he already looked like he’d been incarcerated for a week. Potter reached for him, caught his thumb on a few strands of blond hair that had fallen from the gelled-back mass. </p><p>Draco hugged him fiercely, his pale arms wrapping in a tight circle around Potter’s waist. Potter embraced him back, tucking his face into Draco’s neck, whispering private things. Theo caught the barest glimpse of tears on Draco’s cheeks before he buried his face in Potter’s shoulder, shoulders shaking.</p><p>Percy Weasley found his brother’s eyes and nodded slowly, that pompous face finally breaking into a smile for the first time since they’d met him. Weasley dragged him into a hug too, and after a moment of fighting, the other Weasley gave up and hugged his younger brother back. </p><p>“Harry,” Draco said, clear enough for them all to hear, “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Potter said, so full of love and compassion that Theo’s knees actually felt weak. Damn Gryffindor. </p><p>“I’m sorry for turning into Weasley,” Draco said in a rush, “and for letting Granger kiss me, and not telling you—”</p><p>“Wait,” Potter said, pushing him off, “you— what?” </p><p>“And I’m also sorry, but much less so, for Confunding Weasley afterwards so he wouldn’t realize—” </p><p>“You <em> what—” </em></p><p>Draco kissed him, and Potter’s questions died completely. Weasley, red in the face, took a moment to process this before he sighed, shrugged, and folded his arms in resignation. “I guess we’re finally even,” he muttered to Granger, and Theo had a moment to wonder what that meant before the rest of the eighth-years descended upon them. </p><p>Finnigan and Thomas rushed over to clap Potter on the back, Macmillan whacked Draco’s arm with all the strength he could muster, and Finch-Fletchley swore in victory, his voice echoing off the tall, cold walls. Longbottom stood awkwardly by Potter, not sure what to do or say, but Granger slung an arm over his shoulder and he smiled then.</p><p>It was over. Draco was free.</p><hr/><p>They’d taken the Floo to the Ministry that morning, but by the time they were ready to leave, too many Ministry officials had queued up to head home for the day, so they had to settle for the Knight Bus instead. </p><p>The conductor, a gangly-looking man who couldn’t be more than a few years older than them, recognized Potter at once and ushered them all inside. Potter insisted on paying for their fare to return to Hogwarts, though he couldn’t dissuade the conductor from offering them all free hot cocoa. </p><p>“Right,” Draco said promptly, the moment he saw Theo. “So, how many galleons is that to me? A third, yes?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Theo said. </p><p>“Don’t worry, mate,” Weasley said, at Draco's shocked expression. “You'll make do without. Harry’s rich, he’ll take care of you.” </p><p>Potter dissolved into laughter, as did Weasley and, after a sulk that lasted less than a minute, Draco. He fell into Potter’s arms and they sat together on an empty bed, clearly lost in each other’s presence.</p><p>Theo left Potter and Draco to themselves. So did Weasley and Granger, who took a seat on a bed by the front of the bus. Theo made his way to the back, wishing he’d thought to bring a book with him, and promptly spilled half his cocoa on his trousers as Pansy flopped down beside him. Blaise sat with a bit more poise, still a little irked over the outcome of the bet. </p><p>“You little sneak,” Pansy said, grinning. “Does this mean you didn’t fancy Potter after all?” </p><p><em> “No,” </em>Theo said, glad that he could say it out loud at last. “God, no. I mean, obviously he’s. You know. But—” He shook his head. “You know what I mean.” </p><p>“No, please keep going,” Pansy insisted. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.” </p><p>“Blaise, help me out here?”</p><p>Blaise arched an eyebrow. “No.” </p><p>Pansy giggled, and Blaise cracked a smile. They were Slytherins, after all. Blaise couldn’t be too surprised or disappointed that Theo had managed to pull the rug out from under him. Pansy stole Theo’s mug of cocoa and Theo let her, while Blaise demanded to know whether he and Macmillan were really just friends after all. The bus pulled away from the curb with a lurch, before careening down the streets much faster than any Muggle bus would ever be allowed. One of the Patil twins shrieked, her sister laughed in answer, and the whole bus burst into chatter. </p><p>Their exams were over, their tenure at Hogwarts was finished, in seven days they’d get their exam results at the Leaving Feast, Blaise owed Theo a sack of galleons that could buy a life’s worth of French pastries, and Draco Malfoy was free.</p><p>“You know, all things considered,” Theo said, “I think that went rather well.”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. In Which There is an Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Theo.” </p><p>Theo ignored this. He adjusted the last bottle of ink on the counter so it aligned with the rest, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. His back collided with something solid, and he spun his arms to collect his balance again. </p><p>“Merlin’s pants,” he gasped, turning at last to see who he’d run into. “Don’t scare me like that, Ernie.”</p><p>Ernie Macmillan looked around the shop at the stacks of rolled parchment, the rows of ink bottles slowly shifting color as he watched, and the wall of impeccably clean quills without a single feather out of place. </p><p>“Nice job,” he said, grinning at Theo. “Scrivenshaft’s never looked this good when I used to come 'round here.” He picked up a bottle of ink that was somewhere between Midnight Blue and Breathtaking Violet. “What’s the gimmick with this one?” </p><p>“Reversible ink,” Theo said, grabbing the sample bottle. He snatched a quill from the register and dipped it in the pot, then scrawled a long, jagged line across his forearm. He blew the ink dry, then turned the pot around and read the word printed on the back. The line vanished immediately, starting from where he’d taken his quill away and ending where he’d started. He showed off his bare arm, turning it to show that the ink had well and truly gone. </p><p>Ernie whistled. “Sure could've used that when we were in school."</p><p>“No kidding.” Theo set the bottle down. “What brings you in town, anyway?” </p><p>He looked out the window, at the snow-covered shops lining Hogsmeade from bottom to top. They looked like freshly frosted gingerbread houses, complete with twinkling lights and happily swinging signs. He could see a few students pass by without even looking in the window. Every Christmas a few students would come in to buy a fancy quill or a nice looking notebook for a friend they weren’t particularly close to, but that wasn’t where Scrivenshaft’s made their money. Hogwarts ordered parchment, ink, and quills on a very reliable basis, and they were near enough that delivery was easy and efficient. Justin always met Theo at the station, and they’d sign the necessary paperwork back in his office over a pot of tea, or a plate of fresh pastries if Molrey was around.</p><p>“I had to pick up some old paperwork,” Ernie said, holding up a crumpled piece of parchment. “I was applying for the <em> Prophet </em>when they asked me for my O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores, and I realized I'd thrown them away. Had to write to McGonagall to get a new set printed.” He looked at the parchment, realized it was crumpled, and half-heartedly tried to flatten it out again and fold it neatly.</p><p>“The <em> Prophet, </em> huh,” Theo said. “You finally found an opening?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Ernie stuffed the parchment into his pocket. Theo heard it crunch. “I got lucky, though, Hannah knows someone who knows someone who’s an editor for their sports section, and <em> he </em>said one of their editorial writers had a row with the editor last week and got herself fired.” He shrugged. “So I’m applying.” </p><p>“That’s fantastic.” Theo beamed. “Best of luck. And consider that my preemptive congratulatory gift on getting the job.” He nodded at the bottle of ink in Ernie’s hand. </p><p>“I might not get it,” Ernie muttered, but he didn’t let go of the bottle. “I’ve only ever gotten into magazines before.” </p><p>“Yeah, but still.” Theo shrugged. “It’s the editorial section, right? It’s not war correspondence. You’ll be in the same field.” </p><p>“That’s what I thought,” Ernie said, nodding. He began tossing the bottle of ink up in the air and catching it again. Theo tried not to wince. Even if Ernie smashed it, he could theoretically get it out of the carpet with a single word. “Anyway, enough about me, how’re you? Anything from the Ministry yet?” </p><p>Theo clucked his tongue. “Yes and no. The Apparition Test Center is always looking for new hires, but I don’t want to un-splinch people every week. I’m waiting for something from the Department of International Magical Cooperation to open up.”</p><p>“Makes sense,” Ernie said, and had to bounce the ink bottle off his elbow to keep it from hitting the counter. “Well, good luck. Hope something turns up soon.” </p><p>“Eh,” Theo said. “I don’t mind waiting for a while.” He looked around the shop again, taking in the smell of fresh parchment, quality ink, and quills. “I have nice company.” He jerked his thumb at the window, outside of which they could see the purple-and-green joke shop shining through the snow, packed to the brim with students. Ron Weasley’s brother George ran it on his own most days, but during Hogwarts weekends he outsourced a few people for extra help. Once, Ron himself had been in town, and Theo had spent an entire afternoon just watching him frantically try to keep a shelf of joke toffees stocked.</p><p>“Whoa,” Ernie said, watching the wall-to-wall crowd behind the window. “They’re doing well, aren’t they?” </p><p>“Phenomenally,” Theo agreed. “I make him buy me a drink sometimes. He always has some cash to spare.” </p><p>“You’re doing all right, though?” Ernie looked at the door; another handful of students passed by, not even noticing there was a shop they were running past. </p><p>“Oh, yes,” Theo said. “Hogwarts keeps us in business well enough.” He smirked. “Why? You want a drink?” </p><p>“Honestly, I’d love one.”</p><p>“Mm, let me close up.” Theo headed around the counter and rummaged underneath for the closed sign. “I’ll meet you at Madam Puddifoot’s in fifteen?”</p><p>“I’ll see you in the Broomstick’s in ten,” Ernie said, “moron.” </p><p>Theo laughed, and Ernie waved goodbye, stepping back into the snow. </p><p>Theo gathered his coat from the little room in the back, along with his satchel of money and his wand, which he stuck in his boot. He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking for his gloves, and pulled out the letter Blaise had given him last week. He smiled, and slipped it back in his pocket. </p><p>Blaise and Pansy were inviting him to their house up in London for a weekend trip, and he had yet to reply. Of course he was going. He just had to put his response to words, and those words to paper. As he worked at a stationary shop, his letters had to maintain a certain standard. Perhaps he’d use the color morphing ink, he thought as he finally found his gloves and tugged them over his fingers. Pansy would get a kick out of it. </p><p>He grabbed the keys off the counter and flicked off the lights, taking one last look at the shop before he left. </p><p>Yes, he thought, all was in order.</p><p>With snow on his tongue and a half-forgotten song in his throat, Theo stepped out into the cobbled street to meet his friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to my wonderful, wonderful beta reader <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duinemerwen">Duinermerwen.</a> And thanks to everyone who followed this all the way through! It was a blast to write and even more fun to share :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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